A Series of Prompts
by totalizzyness
Summary: A collection of 00Q prompts I've been taking on Tumblr. All are stand-alone drabbles unless stated otherwise. Rated M for some of the content. Warnings and prompts inside.
1. Warm Me Up

**WARM ME UP**

**_Prompt: Q is close to get hypothermia and James'll do everything what's necessary to warm him up ;)  
Rating: Mature  
Warning(s): Sexual content_**

* * *

Q's teeth were chattering loudly, his hands trembling and slowly but surely turning blue. Bond had said he'd only be ten minutes, and he'd been over an hour. The power had cut out after fifteen minutes and Q had no way of fixing it. There was nothing to burn and only three blankets to keep warm. After thirty-five minutes, the temperature had taken a sudden dip form below-freezing to well-below-freezing. And Q, it seemed, was going with it.

He could feel the hypothermia coming for him, he could see "died of hypothermia" written on his death certificate, his body blue and perfectly preserved on the mortuary table. He contemplated slitting his wrist and writing "this is all James Bond's fault" on the wooden floor with his blood, though that may be a little over the top.

Just when he thought he'd lost all feeling in his legs, the cabin door was kicked open, Bond finally reappearing. He was covered in snow, his eyes barely peeking between the bottom of his hat and top of his scarf.

"Where the b-bloody Hell h-have you b-been!?"

Bond tore the scarf from round his neck, dropping a huge tote bag at his feet. "Sorry."

"S-sorry?! I'm f-fucking d-dying here!"

James rushed to Q's side, pulling his and Q's gloves off, using his own body heat to try and warm his quartermaster. "I brought some firewood, can you hold up until I've got the fire going?"

Q nodded involuntarily, the shivering having taken over his entire body. Bond slipped the gloves back on to Q's hands, wrapping his scarf around his neck too, and draping his coat around his shoulders. Q had never seen a fire assembled and lit as quickly as Bond managed it, the heat slowly filling the room. He was bundled in front of the hearth, James slowly shedding his clothing as the fire got hotter. Q suddenly noticed Bond stripping and gave him a look of confusion.

"What?"

Bond chuckled. "Skin-to-skin body heat is the best way to prevent hypothermia. Come on."

"…Wait, you want me to-"

"-Come on, off."

Q was too confused to put up a fight as Bond began stripping him of the many layers he had on. It wasn't the first time he'd seen another naked guy, it wouldn't be the first time he cuddled with another naked guy, but this was Bond. James Bond, 007, one of the best secret agents England had, who was suddenly sitting behind Q, wrapping his naked body around his own.

Bond crossed Q's skinny arms over his chest, wrapping his own around him and pulling him backwards so his back was flush against his front. He was still shivering as Bond curled their legs together, quickly grabbing the blankets, wrapping them around their little huddle.

"You wouldn't get so cold so easily if you got some meat on those bones."

Q sighed. "Shut up."

Bond smirked, resting his chin on Q's shoulder. "The cold has really taken away your bite."

"I'm trying to focus my energy on warming up instead of bickering with you."

"We just need to get your blood pumping, increase your heart rate."

Q let out a little involuntary twitch, almost elbowing Bond in the ribs. "Little too cold for sports now, Bond. And even if that wasn't the case, I was always shite at athletics."

James smiled, stroking his fingers over Q's stomach. "Never mind, I'm sure we could come up with something else to speed up your heart."

He shuffled forward a little more, letting his erection brush the small of Q's back. He could feel Q tense in his arms.

"Really, James? Really?"

Being a lot stronger than Q, Bond managed to man-handle him quite easily, turning him round to face him and sitting him in his lap, his strong arms bracketing him in. Q stared at him wide-eyed, his legs curling around Bond's waist.

"Come on, Q. You know I'm right."

Q glared. "You really will try it on with anyone, won't you."

"Of course not, this has been a long time coming. What better opportunity for it to finally come to head than me saving your life."

"So in summary, you want to save my life… with sex."

"You make it sound so dirty," Bond muttered, pressing his forehead to Q's neck, kissing the bare, pale flesh beneath his lips. Q let out a quiet gasp that wasn't anything to do with the cold, his thin fingers digging in to Bond's shoulders.

"I shouldn't let this happen."

Bond smirked in to Q's neck, capturing some of his skin between his teeth. "No, Q. Just let it happen."

He skimmed a hand down Q's side, spanning across his ribs, digging his fingers in to the soft skin of his waist before perching on his hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. Q just sat almost motionless, letting out quiet gasps and reacting to Bond's touch, plucking up the courage to lean forward and press some kisses of his own to James' collar bone. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest already, and he was no longer paying attention to how the cold made his feet feel like they were being stabbed with a thousand needles.

Bond raised a hand to cup the back of Q's head, staring in to his eyes for an extended moment before melding their lips together, swallowing the small noises of appreciation Q made in to his mouth. Q was a lot more pliant after the first kiss, a lot less stiff, except for where it mattered. Bond was able to forge a makeshift bed out of some of the layers they'd shed earlier and lay Q down on top of it, in front of the fire to keep warm.

He made a small sound of protest when their lips parted, staring up at Bond hungrily. Bond just smirked back, making sure the blankets were still over his shoulders as he moved to straddle the quartermasters thighs.

"Feeling any warmer?" Bond smirked, skating a hand over Q's pale chest. Q scowled, reaching out to grip Bond's shoulders, pulling him further up his body.

"Shut up, Double-Oh-Seven."

James chuckled, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses up Q's neck. "Why don't you make me."

"So childish," Q muttered, cupping Bond' cheek and pulling him in to a deep kiss, using his other hand on Bond's hip to keep him in place. Bond was anything but shy, and it reflected in how he kissed, his tongue almost instantly finding its way in to Q's mouth, stroking against the roof of his mouth, licking at his teeth, melting Q from the inside out. Bond rest his forearm at the side of Q's head, using it to prop himself up as his other slid down Q's side, fingers stroking over and past his hip.

Q's back arched upwards, his front pressing against Bond's chest as James took a firm grip of his cock, giving it a sharp tug before pressing his own erection against his hip. He moaned, throwing his head backwards, grinding against the cold floor as Bond began trailing kisses down his neck.

Letting go of Q, Bond reached over to snatch the quartermaster's hand from his own hip, trailing it down to where their groins were rubbing together, curling their hands around their cocks. He could feel Q's hand quivering again.

"Don't hold out on me, Q. This is a two man job."

Q let out a startled laugh. "Please, don't talk. You ruin the mood."

Bond chuckled, grinding his hips down against Q, the smaller man gasping and clamping his eyes shut.

"Although… you were right," he managed. Bond quirked an eyebrow, forgetting Q couldn't see. He sensed Bond's unvoiced question any way. "This has been a long time coming… And I am feeling warmer… Just… just hurry up please."

Smirking, Bond ground their bodies together, keeping a tight grip on Q's hand as he pumped their cocks. He made his own small, choked off noises in to Q's neck, pressing the occasional kiss to the now burning skin.

Q writhed underneath Bond, his mouth hanging open, gasping for air, moaning like he was in agony, his free hand holding on to Bond's shoulder in what could only be described as a death-grip. "Jesus bloody… Bond… Fuck…"

Bond grunted, thrusting his hips even harder. "Come on, Q. Jesus…"

Q groaned, pushing his hips up to meet James', his hand tensing around their cocks. He groaned again, even louder as he came, striping his stomach with the warm liquid. Bond pressed his forehead against Q's shoulder, his eyes scrunching shut as he followed Q over the edge, panting heavily.

He managed to keep himself positioned over Q's small frame for a few moments as they both came down from their high. Q cracked his eyes open, squinting up at Bond through his long lashes. Bond smirked, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the quartermasters flushed lips before collapsing down next to him. For a while, the only sounds were those of the fire crackling beside them, the wind howling outside on the mountain, and their own laboured breathing.

Bond reached out for one of the undershirts he'd stripped off, wiping Q's stomach clean with it, before balling it up and throwing it in to a corner. Q sighed, long and sated, before turning his head to face Bond, a small grin playing at his lips.

"I'm much warmer now… Thank you."

James laughed, scooping the quartermaster up in his arms, pressing their bodies to conserve the heat they'd managed to work up.


	2. Don't Scare Me Like That

**DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT**

_**Prompt: Q is held hostage and Bond saves him. h/c**_  
_**Rating: Mature**_  
_**Warning(s): none**_

* * *

Q felt like a prize idiot. How did he not see it coming? Valuable asset to the British Government; technological genius with the ability to hack in to the deepest darkest secrets of any organisation, and the self-defense skills of a baby weasel.

That's not to say he didn't try to put up a fight when a bulky pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a leather-gloved hand covered his mouth. But flailing and kicking wildly didn't do much when a blunt object connects sharply with first your back, and then your head. Needless to say he couldn't put up much of a fight whilst unconscious.

When he woke he was duct-taped to a chair, a strip of tape over his mouth and his glasses missing — probably broken. He wasn't sure what hurt the most, his pride of the throbbing headache from being assault.

He could hear three men murmuring not from from where he was sat, but couldn't make out any actual words, his head a little fuzzy. He at least hoped this was a ransom kidnapping, and not one of those where they broadcasted his horrible, violent death over the internet to send a message. That would be… well… horrible.

After what felt like hours being strapped to the chair, a man in a leather jacket and ski mask appeared in front of him, holding out his state-of-the-art, self-improved mobile. The duct-tape was ripped from his face, burning where it had probably torn the first layer of skin.

"Tell me how to access your phone, we need to contact someone to negotiate a ransom."

"Oh thank God," Q murmured; a ransom kidnapping, much better than the alternative. He was glad they were using his phone for the ransom call too, clearly the kidnappers had no clue to who he actually was. The kidnapper wiggled the phone in his face.

"Today, please."

Q rolled his eyes, groaning at the pain that followed. "Sorry, a little woozy from the head injury you gave me, I could be concussed."

"Just tell me the code to enter your phone!"

Q almost blurted out the actual code, and not the safety code he'd rigged to alert headquarters in case of emergency. "0-0-1-0"

The kidnapper scoffed, entering the code and wandering off. Any second now, the people who mattered at MI-6 would be getting an alert that their quartermaster had been kidnapped, and the coordinates of where he was being held.

A few moments later the kidnapper returned, forcing the phone in his face again. "Which number is it?!"

Q stared at the phone blankly, his eyes having trouble adjusting. "Huh?"

"None of the numbers are named! Which number!?"

"Oh right… No I don't name the numbers in my phone, in case it gets stolen and someone somehow manages to access it. I have some very important numbers, as you've probably guess-"

He was cut off to a punch to the jaw.

"Just tell me the number, and shut up."

Q spat out a small pool of blood, his jaw aching. "Apologies, it appears I get chatty when I'm concussed."

"If you say one more thing that isn't the number I need, fingers are going to be removed."

Not the fingers, he needed his fingers. You can't string together miles of computer code without fingers. "The number ends 6-3-1-5-5," he sighed. The kidnapper clicked his fingers and marched off. Suddenly another kidnapper appeared with a roll of duct-tape. After taping his mouth shut again, the man unnecessarily clocked him by the side of his head, causing a black mist to descend over his eyes before he fell unconscious once more.

He was awoken to the pain of the duct-tape being torn off again, but when he cracked his eyes open it wasn't a masked man freeing his lips.

"Bond?"

Bond sighed relievedly, cupping Q's face in his hands. "Try not to talk too much, Q, but keep your eyes open. Stay with me."

He moved behind Q, cutting his hands free, rubbing his thumbs over his wrists to get the blood flowing back in to them.

"I'm assuming you've eliminated the threat."

"Stop talking, Q… But yes. Your little alert popped up on my phone. I was first on the scene."

Q chuckled, his head lolling back as he stared blankly up at the warehouse ceiling. "Course you were."

"Lucky for you, you got kidnapped whilst I'm in the country."

"Yes, lucky me."

Q's feet were freed next and he suddenly found himself being picked up, his arms being draped around Bond's neck. He grunted, unimpressed to be in the bridal hold of 007.

"How embarrassing."

Bond snorted, tightening his hold of the quartermaster, making his way out of the warehouse. "I could just as easily sling you over my shoulder if you don't shut up."

Q sighed, resting his head against Bond's shoulder, it being too much effort to hold it up. "Shutting up."

He was gently placed down in the passenger seat of Bond's car and strapped in, his head still throbbing. When Bond climbed in himself, he pulled Q's face to look at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Q smiled weakly. "My head hurts."

"Yes, you've got a couple of nice shiners coming along nicely, they might even butch up your appearance."

"Fuck you."

Bond smiled. "Just don't fall asleep on me, Q. I need you awake and talking, here." He passed Q a bottle of water, helping him drink it when Q's fingers were barely able to grip it. "Come on, Q, talk to me. Tell me how incompetent I am for taking so long, scold me for always breaking the equipment, quote pi to as many points as you know."

Q just sighed, letting his eyes slide shut as he rest his head back. "Thank you, James. For coming for me. You didn't have to, you could have left it to one of the other agents."

Bond scoffed. "Of course not, they wouldn't have rescued you nearly an explosive way as I did. They would have negotiated, they wouldn't have kicked the door down and shot everyone in the head."

Q chuckled. "Always have to be the hero. I'm not that much of a damsel in distress, Double-Oh."

"I know. And Q?"

"Hmm?"

"Please, don't ever scare me like that again."

Q cracked an eye open, smiling meekly at Bond. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

Bond smiled back. "That's all I ask."


	3. Last Straw

**LAST STRAW**

_**Prompt: Bond trying desperately to apologize for destroying some tech that Q worked really hard on. Fluffy times?**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Bond could feel the glares from Q as he watched his watch fall down the side of the cliff, in to the rough waters below, along with the enemy agent who'd slipped it from his wrist. He had a legitimate excuse this time, but this was one step too far. Q had spent nearly a week non-stop on that watch, outfitting it to match Bond's tastes and do the job. He would be on the sofa for a long time for this.

After his return to England, the first thing he did upon entering MI-6 headquarters was head down to Q branch, ignoring Eve as she chased after him, telling him he needed to go and be debriefed. When he got to Q branch, he found his quartermaster sat at his computer, pressing a thousand keys a minute, his eyes trained on the screen. Taking a deep breath, Bond marched over to Q, perching himself on the edge of the desk. The smaller man noticed his presence and looked up, innocent eyes lighting up at the sight of the somewhat mauled agent in front of him.

"Bond! Shouldn't you be being debriefed?"

Bond chewed his lip nervously, reaching out to take Q's hands in his own. "Dear… I promise it wasn't my fault, but I'm sorry-"

Q noticed Bond's bare wrist. "Where's the watch?"

"Somewhere in the Adriatic Sea." Bond could see the anger in Q's eyes. "Love, I tried my best to not lose it, I really did, but-"

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that?! How much over-time I put in?! I even got the watch manufacturer to send me a unique base! Do you know how much of our yearly grant went in to that watch?!"

Bond had the decency to look ashamed, letting Q snatch his hands back as he got up to pace his office. "Q, I'm honestly very sorry."

Q scoffed. "Of course you are, that's why you always take such good care of the equipment I make for you."

"I really did this watch! I know how much time and effort and money it took to make it. This wasn't me being careless, I promise. Please, let me make it up to you."

"I have an idea! Why don't you go back to Croatia, down in to the Adriatic Sea and you bring me back that bloody watch!"

Q had stopped pacing, now facing away from Bond, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. James smiled meekly, slipping from the edge of the desk and walking up behind Q, snaking his arms around his waist.

"Q, my darling, I promise I tried to look after this watch. I was quite proud of how well I'd done, until Horvat grabbed it from my wrist as he took a tumble off a cliff."

Q let out a quiet sigh as Bond pressed several kisses to his neck. "James."

"Anything. You name it. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You can't keep doing this, James. No more reckless behaviour, you need to bring back the equipment, as close to working order as you can keep it."

"I know."

"Otherwise I shan't make you the cool things I make you."

Bond smiled. "I'll do my best, I promise."

Q finally turned around in Bond's arms, slipping his arms up around his neck, staring in to his ice blue eyes. "You need to go and be debriefed."

Bond nodded, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together, softly stroking his fingers over the small of his back. "I know… Are we… okay?"

Q quirked a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lover's lips. "You go to your meeting with M, I'll think of how you can make it up to me."

Bond chuckled, tightening his grip on the quartermaster, pulling him in for a warm kiss.

"Now go," Q snapped, pulling away from Bond and walking back over to his desk. Bond smirked.

"I'm going. And dear?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Q looked up and smiled, folding his arms over his chest. "I know… And James?"

"Yes?"

"I do too."


	4. You Enable Me

**YOU ENABLE ME**

**_Prompt: Bond and Q have a mission together. Bond has to undercover as a history professor, and Q - a student.  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None_**

* * *

Tanner marched in to Q-branch, where he knew Bond spent all his time when he wasn't in the field. This particular day he was slumped at Q's desk, watching him tinker with one of the pieces equipment he'd actually managed to return from a mission, even if it was almost broken beyond repair.

"Double-Oh-Seven!"

Bond looked up, Q turning his head to see too.

"New mission from MI-5," he said, dropping the brown file on to the table in front of the agent. Bond scowled.

"I don't work for MI-5."

"We know, but they asked us for one of our top agents for a mission, you pulled the short straw."

Bond sighed, pulling the folder marked "top secret" closer. "Don't they have their own agents?"

"Stop fighting this, Bond, you're on the case. You can take Q with you if you like."

Q suddenly spluttered, looking up at Tanner with wide eyes. "Excuse me?!"

"It's in-land, so you needn't fly. And this way you can make sure Double-Oh doesn't destroy your equipment."

"Yes, yes, I understand but… I don't have field training!"

Bond chuckled. "Come on, Q, it'll be a lark."

"Oh yes, I'm sure it will be when I get shot in the head!"

"I won't let you get shot in the head."

Tanner rolled his eyes and marched out of Q branch, leaving Bond and his quartermaster to bicker about the level of danger on the new mission.

After a lot of briefing from both MI-6 and MI-5, Bond and Q found themselves undercover in a university in Kent, Bond, to his displeasure, having to disguise himself as a History professor.

"You know, I know absolutely bugger all about History."

Q chuckled, unzipping his suitcase in the hotel they were to be staying in. "Lucky for you, I'll be telling you all you need to know from the back of the lecture hall."

"Why do you get the easy job?"

"I look younger than you. No one in their right mind would believe a fifty-year-old student."

"Sod off, you little shit."

Q laughed, setting up his laptop and equipment on the table. Bond sighed, sitting down on his own bed, glaring at the ugly tweed jacket he had to wear to look convincing. Who said History teachers couldn't wear Armani suits?

Their first day on the job went surprisingly well, Bond found. He stood up at the front of the glass, making a mental note to not stare up at Q in the far corner, hidden behind his laptop, feeding him notes through the almost invisible ear-piece he'd fashioned. The students were well-behaved, and didn't ask any questions. Q also, for reasons unbeknownst to Bond, also let him know about students that weren't working. Like the couple on the fifth row who actually had their hands in each other's pants.

"Dirty little sods."

James smirked as he faced away from the class, leaning down to the small microphone pinned to his lapel. "Are you sure you're not just jealous?"

"Of course not."

"You're not very convincing."

He could hear Q breath out an indignant huff. "Don't try and piss me off, Bond. I can easily feed you the wrong information."

"I'm just saying, Q. Maybe all this anger you have is just pent up sexual frustration."

"Sod. Off."

"Tell me, are you a virgin?"

"I hardly see how that's any of your business. And, for your information, this can be seen as sexual harassment."

Bond scoffed. "Hardly. I'll show you real sexual harassment."

"We're on a job, Bond. Focus please."

"That wasn't a no."

"It also wasn't a yes."

"But it wasn't a no."

Q scoffed, Bond could hear him tapping away furiously at his laptop. He wasn't getting another word out of him for the rest of class. He hardly got a word out of him back at the hotel too.

The second and third lessons went much the same, Q fed Bond his lines and the students took their notes. The fourth lesson, Bond was bored of lecturing, so set the class to work in groups to come up with a presentation on the Civil War, dividing them down the middle in to Roundheads supporters and Cavaliers supporters.

"Where do you stand on Oliver Cromwell?" Q mused.

"Good chap, I suppose," Bond replied, lounging back in his seat. Q chuckled, tapping away at his laptop.

"Whose side would you be on?"

Bond stared in to his cup of tea. "The Roundheads."

"Is that because they won?"

"Because Charles was a bloody idiot."

"Well said."

Bond took a quick sip, looking up to Q's corner. He'd been sat there for four lessons and no one had noticed him at all. "You know, I'm starting to think there is no job. This is all just an elaborate ruse by MI-6 to get me away for a while."

"So why did I need to be punished?"

"You enable me."

"I do no such thing."

Bond rolled his eyes, draining his cup and wandered up the hall to where Q was sat, slumping down in the seat next to him. "Getting much work done?"

Q shot Bond a quick glare. "Plenty, thank you. You have a class to keep an eye on."

"They're fine. But one of my students doesn't seem to be joining in."

"He has better things to be doing."

"Such as? Enjoying the perks of life?"

Q scoffed. "Hardly."

Bond smirked, gently resting his hand on Q's knee. "Come on, Q. Surely you've had some kind of student-teacher fantasy."

Q's body stiffened, his lips curving in to a pout. "Not at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Bond, this is highly inappropriate."

Bond's hand trailed higher up Q's thigh. "So are most things I do."

"Bond."

"Q."

Q took a nervous glance around the class, everyone's heads were down, working on their project which he knew he'd have to mark seeing as Bond knew eff-all about History. "Not here, Bond."

Bond's eyes lit up. "Oh? Later then?"

Q went to respond when Bond's hand finally stopped, cupping his crotch. He tried his best not to choke on his tongue, feeling his cheeks flush bright red. Bond, the bastard he was, just smirked, leaning closer.

"Not here, Bond!" Q hissed.

"Later then," Bond grinned, giving Q a quick squeeze before standing up. "If you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach, you dirty minx."

Q glared daggers at Bond as he trudged back down to the front of class, subtly trying to cross his legs and will away the blush in his cheeks and his unwanted erection. He leant down to his microphone. "I am going to end you."

Bond slumped down in his chair, smirking up at Q. "I look forward to it."


	5. Interview

**INTERVIEW**

**_Prompt: Q applied for a job at SIS (MI6). Bond somehow is Q interviewer. Because of the top-secret nature of the job, Q has no idea what he has got himself into.  
Rating: Teen  
_****Warning(s):**_**None**_

* * *

Bond had no idea why he was here interviewing this… kid. He was told some bollocks about other people having better things to do, and it was going to be his quartermaster, so he may as well get to know him. Or something. But this kid couldn't be more than fifteen? Sixteen? He took a quick look at the file. Twenty-three? Bullshit!

He'd already gotten the job, there was just one final interview that Bond had to conduct. He was given no questions, or any guidlines to what he should ask. It was just him and this kid in one of the interview room.

The kid in question was sat opposite, his fingers drumming nervously on the desk. He was all skinny, gangly limbs and a mop of messy brown hair. Innocent, enquiring eyes hiding behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. His suit was rumpled, his tie knotted messily around his scrawpy neck. Bond was sure he could wrap his entire hand around the skinny little neck and throttle him without even trying.

His new Q peered up at Bond suspiciously. The interview had officially started five minutes ago, and Bond had yet to ask a single question. He hadn't even introduced himself. Q nervously cleared his throat, catching Bond's attention.

"Um… are you going to ask me anything?"

Bond cleared his throat, sitting up straight. "Are you actually twenty-three?"

Q's eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Really? You look about twelve."

"Oh… Well, I'm definitely twenty-three."

Bond looked down at the file again. It didn't have his name, Q no longer had a name, he was 'Q' now.

"Sorry, who are you?" Q asked, nervously pushing his hair from his eyes. Bond smirked, closing the file and dropping it on to the desk He held his hand out, Q took it warily.

"Bond, James Bond. Agent Double-Oh-Seven. You're to be my new quartermaster."

Q's eyes lit up slightly. "Oh, wow… Okay."

"Do you know what that means?"

"Um… Not exactly, no."

Bond chuckled humourlessly, trust MI-6 to hire some spotty little kid with no idea of what he's supposed to do. "How are you with guns?"

"I've… never fired one in my life. Or held one."

"What about gadgets? In general?"

"Well, I've fashioned a few of my own?"

"Anything explodable?"

"No… It's hard to get ahold of the necessary tools without being flagged by MI-5."

Bond smirked. "Yes, they do like to stick their noses in where it's not wanted. So… What would you say are your… skills?"

Q frowned, his fingers drumming on the desk again. "I'm very good with computers. Give me ten minutes and I can hack in to any network you want. Well… if you want North Korean missile plans, I may need up to half an hour? But they're yours."

"Is that so? Tell me, how were you approached for this job?"

"Um… I'd just finished hacking in to MI-5's security system, about to leave a message telling them to maybe update their system when two men in suits knocked on my door. I was brought here and… offered a job."

"Who offered this job?"

Q cringed. "A very scary looking lady."

"White hair?"

"Yes."

"Permanent scowl?"

"Yes."

"No sense of humour?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, did she have a God awful bulldog on her desk?"

Q quirked a small smile. "Yes."

"Very good… I'm assuming you were assigned to me for a reason… So… what do you know about espionage?"

Q's eyes widened. "Espionage? You mean, spying and… all that jazz?"

Bond smirked, interlacing his fingers on the desk. "Everything. Gizmos, gadgets, gun fights, exotic locations… it's all very exciting."

"Oh…"

"Do you have a strong stomach?"

Q shook his head. "Not really, no."

"What are your opinion on beautiful women in short, sleek dresses?"

"Um… I don't have an opinion on women in general."

Bond squinted at the younger man. "Why?"

Q coughed nervously, eyes darting around the room. "Does it really matter?"

"To me it does."

"I'm… I'm gay."

Bond's eyes widened; he quickly picked up the file again. "Oh, right. I'm sorry."

"I mean, if you asked me my opinion on muscular men in tailored suits then…"

Q's eyes widened too before he coughed nervously again. Bond quickly looked down at himself, quirking a smile. He was a muscular man in a tailored suit. Interesting…

"By curiosity… What are your opinions? On well dressed, muscular men?"

Q shook his head. "It doesn't matter, really. Next question please?"

Bond smirked. "So… What are your opinions on inter-office affairs?"

"Well… it's none of my business, I suppose."

"What would you say to being in one?"

Q eyed Bond suspiciously, taking note of the way his eyebrow was arched suggestively, the way he was leaning forward ever so slightly. "Are you… propositioning me, Mr Bond?"

"I'm not doing anything. Answer the question, Q. Would you ever consider being a part of an inter-office affair?"

"Well uh… It would depend on who with. I mean… I don't risk severe punishment for just anyone…"

Bond grinned. "Well, you've already got the job. Welcome to MI-6. Have you any questions?"

"Just one. Um… what have I gotten myself in to, exactly?"


	6. I Hate Surprises

**I HATE SURPRISES**

_**Prompt: Bond cuts off all the tracking devices Q has on him to surprise him as a joke, Q freaks out and panics.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q always had a little window on his laptop open, solely to track the whereabouts of James Bond. 007 had six tracking devices on him; his watch, a pin on his lapel, an earpiece — invisible to those who didn't know it was there, a button on his jacket, his belt, and the heel of his left shoe. It was a little over the top, he'd admit, and no other 00-agent had this amount of tacking devices on their person at one time. But the other agents didn't have a penchant for dying like Bond did. Also, Q wasn't shagging the other agents; he had a vested interest to keep Bond alive.

Along with the GPS chips, some of the tracking devices attached to Bond also fed his pulse and blood-oxygen level back to Q's laptop, which had actually come in handy once or twice.

So when, one day, the little dots on the map stopped moving, and a little alert popped up saying the devices were reading no pulse, Q began to panic. Bond was in England, he should be — theoretically — safe. Q quickly hacked in to the CCTV footage of the area the dot had stopped. There was nothing but a dark alleyway. He pulled up the previous footage, and sure enough, Bond wandered in to the alley, but didn't walk out. No one suspicious had walked in after him, and he presumed no one was already there to attack him.

Feeling his own pulse race, Q began hacking in to the entire CCTV system, bringing up his facial recognition software to try and see if Bond was stumbling around anywhere. After fifteen minutes he pulled no results, panicking even more.

The one day off he has in months is the one day Bond decides to fly off the radar, at least, that's what Q hoped he was doing. He contemplated ringing up headquarters, telling them all of Bond's tacking devices were stopped and his pulse was non-existant, but he knew the response he'd get. They'd tell him Bond just needed some time, and disconnected himself from the system.

"I can't handle this stress," Q muttered, his hands shaking as he tried to pull a result from the facial recognition again. There was almost a result, a man in white tracksuit bottoms and yellow Nike hoodie, but it didn't look enough like Bond, even if it was only a partial. Not to mention the fact Bond wouldn't be caught dead in a yellow hoodie.

"Goddamnit Bond, if you turn up alive I'm going to bloody kill you!"

Q fingers flew over his laptop keys, trying all he could to find Bond anywhere in London. He had to be alive, he never died. Even when he was supposed to die he turned up weeks later with that stupid grin on his face, shrugging his shoulders like an arrogant teenager.

His facial recognition software had pulled up no results yet again when there was a noise in his living room. The sound of his window closing. Oh shit. Bond was dead and whoever had done it had come for him. Pulling up all his security programs for his laptop, he silently slid it from his lap, quietly tip-toeing to the door of his room, listening out for clues to who the intruder may be.

There was another thump in the living room, that sounded like an empty mug hitting the thick rug underneath the coffee table.

"Oh, bloody Hell."

Q took a deep breath of relief, physically sagging against the doorframe, before snapping back in to operating mode. He flung his bedroom door open, storming in to the living.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?! I was worried sick! Why would you even do that?! Are you actually clinically insane?! I thought you were dead you fucking moron! I can't believe you! What the Hell do you think you were doing?!"

Q took a deep breath to get oxygen in his lungs, James Bond smiling foolishly in front of him, a little concerned by Q's outburst.

"I was only trying to surprise you, love."

"Well I'm bloody fucking surprised! You're a fucking idiot, James Bond! I can't believe you!"

Bond chuckled softly, walking over to Q, wrapping his arms around his skinny, trembling frame. "I'm sorry, Q, but it's hard to surprise you when you have all those trackers on me."

Q sagged in James' grip, breathing heavily with relief to have him alive. "Why were trying to surprise me anyway?"

Bond smiled, reaching around Q to the sofa, holding up a bouquet of flowers. "It's your day off. I thought I'd surprise you with flowers, and… sex… and then I'd take you out for a nice meal and we'd come back and… maybe have more sex."

Q let out a tired laugh, taking the flowers. "Why couldn't you have just run this by me, I wouldn't have said no."

"Well," Bond started, pressing a quick kiss to Q's forehead. "That defeats the purpose of a surprise."

"I fucking hate you, James Bond. Your stupid antics are going to put me in an early grave."

Bond chuckled, squeezing his lover gently. "I'm sorry, dear. I had no idea you'd react this way."

"Well, now you know. Don't ever, ever do that to me again."


	7. I'll Be There In The Morning

**I'LL BE THERE IN THE MORNING**

_**Prompt: Bond taking Q's v-card & the morning after?  
Rating: Explicit  
Warning(s): Sexual content**_

* * *

Bond smiled, smoothing down the curling strands of hair at the nape of Q's neck, pressing a soft kiss to his flushed skin.

"Are you okay, dear?"

Q shuddered, letting his eyes crack open. "I'm… I'm fine."

Bond trailed a litter of kisses from one shoulder to the other. "You know we don't have to do this."

Q shook his head, reaching behind, grabbing James' arm. "No. No. I want to. I don't want to be a twenty-three-year-old virgin."

"Twenty-three my arse."

Q groaned, dropping his head against his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck… You…"

Bond chuckled, trailing his hands down Q's sides, enjoying the way he writhed in his grasp. "Will do… You ready?"

Q nodded fervently, letting out a quiet whimper. "Just do it. Go on."

"This will be harder if you're nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous, you arse!"

Bond sighed, stroking a hand down Q's spine gently. "Relax for me, Q. Take some deep breaths."

Q took several deep gulps of air, his body shuddering under the feel of Bond's calloused hands. "Okay… I'm ready… I think…"

"Last chance to back out. You're definitely sure?"

"Just bloody do it, Bond! Now!"

"Very well."

Q scrunched his eyes shut, letting out a deep groan as Bond thrust in, his fingers clenching tightly in the bed-sheets. Bond stroked a hand through his messy tangles, hushing him quietly.

"You're doing great, Q…"

Q nodded, taking in deep breaths, getting used to the feel of Bond inside him. "Jesus, Bond… So… So…"

Bond nodded, pressing several kisses up Q's spine, rubbing his thumbs in to the grooves of his hips. "You ready for me to move?"

"Yes! Please."

"It'll get better, I promise," Bond murmured, reaching up to press a kiss to Q's neck before pulling out a small amount, pushing back in. Q moaned with every thrust, white-knuckling the sheets, eyes scrunched shut. After a while, he found himself pushing back to meet James thrust for thrust. Bond smirked, tightening his grip on Q's hips, digging his fingers in to the pale flesh.

"James… James, I want… I want…"

James kissed up his spine frantically. "What? What do you want?"

"I want… I want to see you."

James nodded, pulling away, manhandling Q on to his back. Q moaned, his eyes fluttering open. James smiled, cupping Q's cheek with his large palm.

"You all right?"

"Yeah… Please…"

James nodded, repositioning himself and thrusting in. Q ground his head back in to the pillows, letting out a quiet moan. Bond groaned at the sight of him, licking a long stripe up Q's taught neck.

"Jesus, Q."

Q quirked a small smile, cracking an eye open. "Come on, Bond."

Bond chuckled, hoisting Q's legs around his waist, thrusting in harder, Q groaning even louder. "You ready, Q?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Q muttered, slinging his arms up around Bond's neck. Bond smirked, leaning down, pressing a messy kiss to his quarteraster's lips before speeding up his thrusts, pushing in harder, Q muttering a litany of curses under his breath until he suddenly went silent, arching up off the bed. Bond groaned in to his neck as Q clenched around him, the two of them coming simultaneously. Q gasped in to Bond's shoulder, grabbing at his back. Bond smiled, collapsing down next to Q, running a hand over his face.

"How was that?"

Q stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan. "You know I have no basis for comparison, Bond. Don't ask stupid questions."

Bond chuckled, reaching his arm out around Q's shoulders, pulling him to his chest. "Are you okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine."

"Just fine?"

"I'm still alive so… yeah."

Q awoke the next morning expecting the bed to be empty and to feel a soreness. And he wasn't disappointed. The space next to him was cold, obviously vaccated for quite a while. Q sighed, rolling out of bed, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd tried not to feel too disappointed, dragging himself through to the bathroom, climbing in to the shower, letting the hot water wash away everything he was feeling. Once he felt clean enough, he padded through to his room, ready to get dressed and ready for the day. A noise in the kitchen startled him. Forgetting he was only wearing a towel he slowly made his way out to see who it was.

Bond was stood in the kitchen, making two cups of tea, looking like he belonged. Q did a double-take, dropping his towel.

"Bond?"

Bond spun around and grinned, noticing Q was stood naked. "Good morning to me!"

Q noticed his lack of decency and grabbed at the towel, wrapping it haphazardly around his waist. "What are you doing here?"

"Um… Making tea?"

"But… You were gone…"

Bond smiled, taking the few steps towards Q, wrapping his arms around him. "I nipped out to get some milk, you had none… You thought I'd left?"

Q smiled foolishly, letting himself sink in to Bond's grip. "Well, you had left. And with your track record…"

Bond pressed a soft kiss to Q's wet hair, stroking his thumb against his shoulder. "I know I'm a bastard, Q, but I wouldn't take your virginity and scarper the next morning. Besides, you're hardly just another conquest."

"Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"I wish you would."

Q smiled, looking up tp press a chaste kiss to Bond's lips. "Very well… Anyway, I should go get dressed."

"You don't have to," Bond grinned, watching Q make his way back in to the bedroom. He quickly finished making the cups of tea and joined him; the two men lounging on the bed, Q with his laptop on his knee, Bond with the morning's newspaper.


	8. Jealousy Doesn't Suit You

**JEALOUSY DOESN'T SUIT YOU**

**_Prompt: All the 00 agents ares starting to flirt with Q and James is more. than. jealous (like, would you all just stop before I have to kill you) and wants nothing more to rip them all away from (his) the Quartermaster, but they aren't in a relationship and he thinks it's unrequited (Q is therewhile just really confused about why everyone is flirting with him and why is James acting so weird?). Thing is, the 00s don't actually want anything from Q, because it's clear as the day that the Quartermaster and 007 are completely in love with each other. They just want to get them to finally confess it to each other.  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s):_****_None_**

* * *

Q looked up to find 005 perched on the edge of his desk, smiling down at him sweetly. Q, in response, shot him a suspicious glance.

"May I help you, Double-Oh-Five?"

The agent grinned, leaning forward. "I just came to see how you were doing with the night-vision glasses prototype."

"Oh, right… The interns are having a little trouble getting them to switch from night-vision to normal vision, but other than that they're coming along quite nicely."

005 hummed, slipping from Q's desk and standing behind him, reaching around and picking up a parker pen from beside him. Q glanced over, turning back to his computer.

"That doesn't explode, you know."

005 laughed, louder than necessary — it wasn't that funny a joke. "Oh Q, Bond said you were wonderfully witty."

Q's hands halted over his keyboard. "He… He did?"

"Oh yes. I'm starting to see what he sees in you."

"What he… sees in me?"

"Mm-hmm… Anyway, must go."

005 popped the pen back down, stroking a hand over Q's shoulders as he left. Q looked up at the door as it slid shut, wondering what on Earth had just happened. He'd finally pushed it from his mind when 007 wandered in, brandishing a manilla folder.

"Double-Oh-Seven, how may I help you today?"

Bond quirked an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

Q shook his head, looking back down at his computer. "Oh nothing, just 005 was in here earlier, being… strange."

Bond narrowed his eyebrows, sitting on the corner of the desk closest to Q. "Strange how?"

"Just… laughing at my jokes even though they weren't funny, touching me… he was giving me the strangest looks… He said… he… He said he was beginning to see in me what you see in me."

Bond visibly straightened up, his eyes widening slightly before reverting back to his usual calm demeanour. "…Oh."

"Oh? What did he mean by that?"

"Nothing, nothing. Um… I'm here to deliver this, and ask if you've fixed my gun. I have an upcoming mission, you know."

Q rolled his eyes, taking the folder. "I do know. And by fix your gun you mean, fabricate a brand new one, seeing as you didn't return the last one I gave you?"

Bond grinned. "I brought some of it back!"

"Oh yes, the trigger, how kind."

Bond chuckled as Q pulled open a drawer, lifting out a black box, pushing it in front of the agent.

"Don't lose this one. Or break it, or destroy it, or bring it back in pieces. Please. Or else next mission you'll be defending yourself with a super-soaker."

"Now there's an idea. If you could make me one that squirts acid…"

Q chuckled. "If you're good, and bring back this gun, I'll think about it."

Bond slipped from his desk, grabbing the box and giving Q's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I knew I liked you for a reason. I'll be seeing you, Q."

"Likewise, Mr. Bond."

—

Much to his disdain, Bond found himself teaming up with 009 for a mission. He didn't have a problem with the other agents, he just liked to think of himself as a lone wolf, he didn't work with other agents, especially after his death-that-wasn't — there was no way Miss Moneypenny was living that down. And 009 was a good agent, he had a good eye and a steady hand… he just needed to learn to keep his hands off other people's quartermasters.

Bond knew that Q wasn't his, but Goddamnit 009 needed to stop. Q was showing off the equipment they were to be using; a taser disguised as a mobile phone, a water gun filled with acid, just for Bond to play with, a tranquiliser dart disguised as a pen… And 009 found all these inventions amazing, grabbing Q's arm, squeezing his almost non-existent bicep, just… touching him. A lot. Bond was grinding his teeth, seething watching the disgusting display in front of him. Q, bless him, was too confused by the sudden display of affection to say anything to 009, instead just trying to get on with his job. Bond was too busy oozing jealousy and hatred he didn't notice the little smirks 009 kept sending him over his shoulder. He tried to distract himself, looking over the tranquiliser pen so he wouldn't have to see 009 grope the poor quartermaster.

"You and I should get coffee, Q."

Bond froze, his eyes widening dramatically. Q began fumbling over his words.

"Oh um… that um, very kind but… I uh, don't drink coffee."

009 smirked, stroking a hand over Q's forearm. "Tea then, I'd quite like to spend more time with you outside…"

009 trailed off, his eyes suddenly drooping before falling to the floor, unconscious. Q and Bond shared an odd look, before Q looked pointedly down at the pen in Bond's hands. Bond looked down too, cringing when he noticed his thumb was pushing down the trigger.

"Is there any reason you tranquilised Double-Oh-Nine?" Q huffed, kneeling next to the unconscious agent. Bond quickly put the pen down on the desk, hurrying over to help.

"I didn't mean to, it was an accident."

"Are you sure you're a trained secret agent?"

"It was an accident, Q!"

Q sighed, reaching up to his desk, pulling out his phone to call up medical. Bond twisted his hands nervously, refusing to make eye contact with his quartermaster.

—

Bond had somehow wormed his way in to the security office, slumping down in the chair looking over the CCTV screens until he found the four for the Q branch. Q was at his station, taking apart what was left of the of the phone he'd returned from the last mission. He could see him muttering and shaking his head, Bond couldn't help but smile.

However, his smile was short-lived when he noticed 006 sidle in to Q branch, slipping up behind Q. He couldn't see what was being said, but he watched on as 006 grabbed Q's waist, making him jump. 006 had a predatory look about him as he took a hold of Q's skinny arm, presumably apologising for frightening him. Q had a noticeable blush on his face. Bond began drumming his fingers angrily on the desk, watching his fellow agent blatantly ignore the concept of personal space.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling up Q's number and pressing 'call'. He watched on the screen as Q held his finger up to 006, answering the call on his hands-free device pinned to his cardigan.

"Q."

Bond leaned closer to the screen. "Q, are you busy?"

"Bond!"

He could see 006 laugh on screen, turning towards the camera.

"I'm not busy, do you need something?"

"Um… No, just keep talking to me, I'm trying out this new thing."

Q squinted, readjusting his earpiece; 006 casually looked around the room, occasionally smirking up at the camera. Bond scowled.

"What thing?"

"Just this thing…"

Q chuckled. "How specific. If it's technological you should bring it down."

James smirked. "What are you trying to say?"

"That you're old, and technologically impaired."

"Nice of you to say."

006 was still grinning, casually edging closer toward's Q. Q, however, didn't notice, too enthralled in their conversation.

"So um, what are you doing?"

Q turned back to his table, looking over the remains of the phone. "Small talk? Are you okay, Double-Oh?"

"I said, I'm trying out a new thing, I need you to keep talking."

"Well, I know I said I'm not busy, but I'm no good at talking for the sake of it. If you'd like, I have Double-Oh-Six here, I'm sure he'd be happy to."

006 grinned, reaching out fro Q, grabbing his cardigan and pulling him closer. Q let out a little sound of surprise; Bond ground his teeth together.

"Does James need me to talk to him?"

"No, not Miller, talk to me Q."

Q frowned. "Sorry, just a minute Bond."

He watched Q take his earpiece out and pass it over to 006, unclipping the microphone. 006 grinned even wider, holding the mic up to his mouth.

"Bond! How are we?"

Bond scowled. "Put Q back on."

"I'm sorry, he's a little busy right now."

"Miller-"

"His knees are going to be sore tonight."

"Miller-"

"And boy, that mouth."

Bond could see Q stare at 006 in horror. "I mean it-"

"You should try this, Bond."

"I'm going to-"

"Are we jealous, Bond?"

Refusing to put up with 006's cheek, Bond hung up, throwing his phone down on to the desk. 006 laughed, passing over the hands-free device. He looked up to the camera, winking before stalking out of the room.

—

Bond sat himself down at Q's desk, ready for the telling off he was going to receive for not bringing back any of the equipment he'd been given for his last mission. Q quietly ignored Bond, continuing to tap away at his laptop, letting Bond get uncomfortable before shouting at him.

"You know, I'm sorry," Bond tried, holding his hands up innocently. Q glared over the top of his glasses.

"What does that even mean?"

Bond squinted. "Um… That I feel bad for-"

"But do you? Feel bad?"

"Well, yes."

"I don't believe you."

Bond sighed. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"I don't think so."

"Really? Nothing?"

Q took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes before sighing. "There's no way you'll ever be capable of looking after any of the equipment I give you, is there."

Bond looked down at the table. "Probably not."

"But it's just you. Double-Oh-Five brings his equipment back. As does Six, and Four… It's just you."

"Oh?"

"Agent Miller says you do it on purpose. To annoy me."

Bond scoffed. "Getting friendly with Miller, I see."

Q rolled his eyes. "He says you're pulling my metaphorical pig-tails, whatever that's supposed to mean. And is there something going on I'm not aware of? You've all been acting so strange."

"Strange how?"

"The other agents have been showing a sudden interest in me, and Q branch. And you have been… Stranger than usual."

Bond nodded, looking at the back of his hand casually. Q continued to glare.

"Bond."

"What do you want me to say, Q? That suddenly the other agents have noticed how amazing you are? And that it kills me to see them drape themselves all over you? You want me to admit how by some strange series of events I seem to have fallen head over heels for the skinny little nerd who continues to make me guns and looks out for me even when I do nothing but piss him off?!"

Bond finally looked up, Q's eyes had widened comically, his lips quirked in a startled pout.

"Well… That's… Um… Wow…"

Bond let out a loud sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to leave now."

He pushed himself from his seat, marching towards the door. He didn't hear Q's chair scraping as he dove from his desk, reaching out for Bond's arm.

"James wait."

"What?" Bond huffed, spinning round. Q's eyes nervously darted around the room before he lunged forward, mashing his lips against Bonds. Bond grunted in surprise, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend the situation. He felt Q stiffen and begin to pull away. His brain started working again, his arms wrapping around the quartermaster, pulling him against his chest. Q let out a muffled groan of surprise, his own arms slowly slipping up around Bond's neck.

Several floors up, Agents 005, 006, and 009 were gathered around Miss Moneypenny's desk, grinning at her computer screen. On the screen was a camera feed of Q's office, in particular, 007 and his quartermaster leaning up against the wall, kissing hungrily, hands grabbing at each other.

"So whose doing was this?" Eve laughed.

"It was a collective effort," 005 smirked.

* * *

**A quick author's note to answer some of your questions:**

**Yes, I am still taking prompts, if you want to leave one in the comments or send me a message.**

**There are currently 21 instalments to this series of prompts, I'll try to upload one a day, two if I miss a day for whatever reason.**

**I know a lot of you have expressed a wish for sequels or full length fics for some of the prompts: if I can think of a decent story-line for a sequel then I shall write it, but if not then, sorry.**

**I think that's everything... Thank you for enjoying these and reviewing and favouriting and all (:**


	9. Sickness

**SICKNESS**

**_Prompt: I know it's a bit dark and sad, but a self harming/eating disorder Q and Bond finds out. Preferably if Q does something and faints at work or something  
_**_**Rating: Mature  
Warning(s): Anorexia  
AN: I'm sorry if this is a bit iffy, it's a sensitive subject and I wasn't sure how to properly approach it.**_

* * *

Bond sat staring at the crossword on his lap, tapping his pen against the table, stumped by four down. He was waiting for Q at a small cafe four blocks from headquarters. Q was late, which was, annoyingly, a common occurrence. He'd get caught up in his work and lose track of time and Bond often found himself waiting from anything from two to four hours for him to turn up. The things James Bond put up with for love.

He picked up his phone, checking the time. Fifteen minutes late. Sighing, he fired off a quick text, reminding Q he had somewhere to be. Q responded almost instantly.

_**"I know, I'm sorry. On my way, be there in five."**_

He smiled, twenty minutes was definitely better than four hours. Five minutes later, a dishevelled, windswept Q rushed towards Bond, papers sticking out of his satchel slung over his shoulder. He slumped down in the seat opposite, letting out a loud sigh.

"I apologise for being late, one of the interns managed to set fire to something supposed to be fire resistant."

Bond smiled, reaching across the table, covering Q's hand with his own. "It's okay, I'm used to waiting on you."

Q frowned. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

The waitress wandered over, smiling sweetly at the couple. "Can I get you anything?"

Q let out a long sigh, pushing his hair from his face. "A cup of Earl Gray, please. Breakfast."

The waitress nodded. "Anything else?"

"Do you not want some food? You haven't eaten," Bond said, pushing the menu across the table. Q shook his head.

"I'm not hungry, just the tea, please."

Bond frowned, waiting for the waitress to leave them alone. "Q, you need to eat."

"I'll eat when I get back. Honestly James, I'm fine."

"You're a twig."

"Please, just leave it, James."

Bond nodded reluctantly, paying attention to how thin Q's wrists were as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. He worried about his boyfriend. He used to think he was just thin because he was so busy, so integrated in his work he just forgot to eat. But it was becoming more and more apparent Q made no actual attempt to eat. They'd had a weekend off together and Q had only eaten two apples and two bites of a sandwich Bond had made for himself, as well as too many cups of tea.

"So… How's paid time off?" Q smiled, reaching across the table to take Bond's newspaper. Bond smiled, passing over his pen too.

"Dull. Lonely. Dull."

"You need a hobby that isn't hunting and killing international terrorists."

"Well I tried to take up crochet but I lost one of my needles in the chest of an international terrorist."

Q laughed, scribbling down the answer to seven across. "Knitting was always a lethal hobby. How about trainspotting?"

"No thank you."

Bond reached across the table, taking Q's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the thin wrist, feeling his pulse throb underneath. Q quirked a small smile at him, stroking a finger across his arm.

After their café date, they went their separate ways, Bond going back to his flat, Q back to headquarters. The moment he got in, Bond pulled out his phone, pulling up Eve's number.

"You're supposed to be taking time off to readjust," she said by way of a greeting. Bond laughed.

"I'm very readjusted. I need a favour."

"No."

"It's nothing big."

Eve sighed. "I'll decide on whether it's 'big' or not."

"I need the CCTV footage of Q's office."

Eve said nothing for a few moments. "Um… why?"

"Just do this for me? I need to check something."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing to worry about."

"Does he know you're asking for this footage?"

Bond sighed, collapsing down on the sofa. "Do you think I'd be asking you for it if he did?"

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Just do it, please."

Eve sighed. "Fine. I'll have them sent to you A-S-A-P. If he asks, I'm not involved."

"That's fine. Thanks."

They hung up, Bond pulling the laptop over to him. A few moments later, he had the CCTV files sitting in front of him. He nipped to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee before settling in for the evening, poring through hours and hours of footage.

Two hours in, Q had only drank three cups of tea. Seven hours in and four more cups of tea. Eleven hours, Q ate an orange. Twenty-five hours, and many cups of tea, Q ate an apple. Forty hours in, an intern brought him some food. Ten minutes later it was pushed in to the bin beside his desk.

Bond sighed, fast-forwarding through the footage, making notes of how much Q was eating. After one week, Q had barely eaten enough food to constitute one meal. He wondered how the boy genius was still standing.

After two weeks of footage, Bond stopped, dropping his head to his hands, letting out a long sigh. He thought back to conversations he'd had with Q; about how he hated his body. Bond remembered jokingly offering to train him and help him build up some muscle. Q had given him a hollow smile in return. He recalled and incident finding Q in front of the bathroom mirror, grabbing the skin of his stomach, muttering something about being fat.

"Goddamnit," Bond muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "How didn't I realise?"

He brought up his internet browser, searching for "anorexia". He could feel his pulse quicken as he read through the signs and symptoms as they described Q quite succinctly. He never ate, he was cold all the time, his skin was sallow, he was tired most of the time. Bond felt like he'd failed him; Q spent so much time looking out for him, keeping him safe and Bond hadn't even realised despite the signs being right there.

He reached for his phone, ringing Eve again.

"Now what? Find something you didn't like? Is he cheating on you with a robot-girl of his making?"

Bond let out a weak chuckle. "I wish. Um… How does one go about staging an intervention?"

"Intervention?! For what?"

"Just, please, Eve."

Eve let out a sad sigh. "I'll get on to it, send you the information I find."

"Thanks."

"And Bond, I'm sure everything's fine."

"Yeah…"

He hung up, dropping the phone on to the sofa behind him, throwing his head back.

He was woken several hours later by his phone ringing. He raised his head groggily, looking around the room. The clock told him it had just gone three. The phone was still ringing. Sighing, he raised it to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"Bond!"

"Eve? Has that information come through?"

"You need to go to Gordon Hospital."

Bond jumped from the sofa, grabbing his coat, already in action mode. "Why? What's happening?"

"Q, he collapsed."

Bond stopped in his tracks. "What?! Fuck! fuck fuck…"

Pulling on his coat, slamming the door behind him, he ran out of the flat, not listening to Eve babble down the phone at him.

"Paramedics said something about him being exhausted or something. I mean, I know he over-works but…"

"I'd better have clearance to barge right in and demand to see him."

"I'll get right on it."

He hung up, shoving the phone in to his pocket, hailing down a taxi. The drive to the hospital was agonisingly slow, Bond's hands trembling, he felt his heart thudding violently in his chest. He couldn't recall feeling so nervous, so heart-broken. Q could easily slip in to a coma and never wake; he had no idea how long Q had been suffering, he'd been a skinny little thing when they'd met.

He didn't want to lose Q; sure he'd been in love before, but with Q it was different. He could easily keep up with Bond, for any smart remark Bond had, Q had one fully prepared. He was smart, a genius, and funny, and most of all he was beautiful. Not just aesthetically; he had a good heart. James had never felt more loved than when he was with Q.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes as the taxi pulled up outside the hospital. Wiping them with the back of his sleeve, he threw several notes at the cabbie and bolted inside, running up to one of the Q branch interns he recognised.

"Miss Moneypenny told me to tell you he's on the third floor, room E2."

Bond nodded, bypassing the lifts and heading for the stairs, running up the three flights and down the corridor. A nurse was stood outside the room, trying to stop him barging in.

"Move."

The nurse crossed her arms over her chest. "He needs to be left to recooperate."

"I'll ask you one more time. I don't want to assault you but I bloody will. Move."

"The doctor said-"

Bond shoved the nurse out of the way, throwing the door open. Q was lying lifeless in the hospital bed, tubes coming out of his mouth and arm, a ventilator breathing for him. The cardiograph showed a steady pulse. He collapsed down in to the chair beside his bed, grabbing his hand between both of his.

"Goddamnit, Q."

He pressed his lips to Q's boney fingers, his eyelids falling closed. He felt a tear slide down his cheek. He heard the door click open, footsteps coming to a halt.

"Mr Bond, I assume?"

Bond nodded, not taking his eyes from Q.

"I'm Doctor Hayes. Your uh, partner collapsed from fatigue, due to his long work hours and he doesn't seem to be eating properly. His nutrient levels are worryingly low-"

"He doesn't eat," Bond sighed. "He has… He's anorexic. I think."

"You think?"

"We've never talked about it. I just figured it out today."

"I'm sure you've had a long day, Mr Bond. I'll just let you know he'll be okay. We're feeding his via IV, he should be awake tomorrow afternoon. We've caught this early."

Bond nodded, rubbing his thumb over Q's wrist, feeling a faint pulse. He heard the footsteps shuffling away, the door clicking shut behind him. Already knackered from his stressful day, Bond let himself fall asleep, hands clamped tightly around Q's.

He woke up to someone shaking him gently. He cracked his eyes open to see Eve smiling sadly at him, holding out a cup of cheap machine coffee.

"How are you holding up?"

James frowned, sitting back in his seat, wincing at the sound of his bones cracking. "Not very well."

"The doctor said he's doing well."

Bond hummed passively, taking a sip of the coffee. "He just… Why didn't he tell me?"

"James, be honest. How many personal things do you tell him? You didn't even tell him you broke your collar bone."

"But… This is serious!"

Eve reached over, squeezing his knee. "It's not easy telling someone your weaknesses. Eating disorders, mental disorders, most people just struggle through and don't tell a soul until it consumes them."

"He can't die on me. He just can't."

"He won't. Who else is going to kick your arse in to shape?"

Bond let out a weak chuckle, raking his eyes over Q's body. "I don't recommend falling in love, Miss Moneypenny."

"Come on, you need to eat something."

Bond let himself be heaved out of the plastic hospital chair and led down to the cafeteria. He said nothing as he mindlessly shoved food in his mouth, his mind focused on Q lying in the hospital bed. After his bland meal of hospital food, Bond made his way back up to Q's room, prepared to spend all his time at his bedside until he got better.

After several hours of terrible machine coffee and nurses badgering him, Q was still unconscious. When he demanded to know why, the nurses shrugged, explaining recovery takes time. He sat with his hand clasped tightly around Q's, only believing his heart was beating when he could feel it himself. He reached up and pushed a tuft of hair back from Q's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"Come on, Q. Wake up… This time yesterday you were calling me an idiot for not knowing what a low frequency signal is," he chuckled, cupping Q's cheek in his palm. "You've got to wake up."

The room remained silent, Bond staring up at Q's face, waiting for his eyes to open. He needed to see his blue-green eyes. He needed to know he was okay. He needed Q to keep him grounded, to tell him when he was being an arse.

The day dragged on with no change to Q's condition. The doctor came along, giving Bond an explanation as to why he may not wake up any time soon, saying they were just playing the waiting game. Eve arrived after, putting a comforting hand on Bond's shoulder.

"Go back home. Get some proper sleep, I'll ring you if there's any change to his condition."

Bond shook his head. "I'm not leaving his side."

"He'll be fine, James. He's in good hands."

"I want to be there when he wakes."

"James, you'll be no use to him if you exhaust yourself, you'll find yourself in a bed here yourself."

Bond let out a resigned sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine. The moment, anything happens. He twitches his pinky, you ring me."

Eve smiled meekly. "I promise. Go. Look after yourself."

Bond collapsed down on the sofa when he got home, falling asleep instantly. He woke ten hours later, the first thing he did was check his phone. No new messages or missed calls. He huffed out a deep sigh, dragging himself to the bathroom. After a shower and proper meal, James felt refreshed and relaxed enough to go back to the hospital.

Q's condition still hadn't changed. He sighed dejectedly, collapsing down in the seat beside his bed.

It wasn't for another two days until Q finally woke. His pulse quickened, Bond's head shooting up.

"Q?"

Q let out a pained gasp, his throat sore from the respirator that had been removed the previous day. Bond jumped from his seat, looming over the quartermaster, cupping his cheek.

"Q?"

"James?"

His eyelids slowly fluttered open, taking a while to focus on his surroundings.

"Oh thank God. Damnit, Q!"

"Am I… in the hospital?"

"You collapsed, exhaustion, your body was running on reserve."

Q raised a weary hand to rub his head, squinting up at Bond. "James, I-"

"You stupid idiot, Q. You had me worried sick."

"I'm sorry."

Bond let out a lengthy sigh, rubbing the back of his head. "Q… Were you ever going to tell me?"

Q frowned. "Tell you what?"

"About your eating habits? Or should I say, your lack of?"

"James-"

"I mean, don't you trust me? Did you think I wouldn't understand? I'd stop loving you?!"

Q sighed, reaching out to take Bond's hand. "I don't know. I… How would I tell you? How do you tell anyone that you have an eating disorder?"

"I wish I'd figured it out earlier."

"No, James, it's not your fault."

"Just…" Bond hunched over Q again, taking his face between his hands, littering it with kisses. "Don't ever do that again. Promise me you'll try and get better. I can't go through this again."

Q nodded, leaning up to press his lips against Bond's. "You'll stay with me?"

"I'm never leaving you, you idiot."


	10. Self-Defense

**SELF-DEFENSE**

_**Prompt: Bond makes Q take a self-defense course (for whatever reason, maybe even just for funsies?) and Q somehow convinces Bond to take it with him.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q somehow managed to look even smaller in his t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, standing in front of the gym mirror. He stared at his meagre reflection, holding on to his arm. Bond wandered up behind, looking buff, his muscles flexing underneath his too-tight shirt.

"Are you ready?" Bond grinned, stretching his arms above his head. Q looked up at Bond through the mirror.

"Will you go easy on me?"

Bond chuckled, swinging his arms by his side. "I won't be too rough."

Q scowled. "James, look at me! You could snap me in half so easily!"

"We'll use the extra soft bouncy mats, how about that?"

"How about you go easy on me?"

Still chuckling, Bond took a few more steps forward, slipping his arms around Q's waist. "I'm here to teach you self defense, Q. This could save your life one day."

"Could you not have brought in someone for you to demonstrate on? I don't think I'll learn very well if I'm being flipped on my back all the time."

"Okay, today I'll go through the easy things that don't require being flipped on your back. Next lesson I'll bring someone in."

Q sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Very well."

A devilish grin suddenly spread across Bond's face, as he grabbed one of Q's arms, bent it over his back and hoisted Q over it, flipping him on to the mat. Q let out a loud groan, Bond chuckling and dropping down on top of him, running a hand through his messy hair.

"You good?"

Q cracked his eyes open, letting out a quiet whimper. "Have I told you lately that I absolutely hate you?"

Bond grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Q's lips. "I love you too."

Q managed a weak smile, draping an arm around Bond's neck, pulling him down for another kiss. "I'm starting to regret asking you to join me in training."

"To make up for me being an arse, I'll let you show me what you learnt tonight… In bed…"

Q dropped his head back on to the mat, laughing at Bond's suggestive smirk. "You know, once I get really good at self defense, you're going to regret that promise."

"Oh I'm sure I will. Anyway…" Bond pulled himself to his feet, offering Q a hand up. "Are you ready to learn?"

A few weeks later, Bond was due to return from his mission to Budapest and Q was eager to show him what he'd learnt in his lessons whilst he was away. Once Bond entered the building to be debriefed, he began packing everything away. He hovered around the medical unit, waiting for Bond to arrive to assess the physical damage — he couldn't very well flip Bond over his back if he had a broken arm or dislocated shoulder.

Bond eventually staggered down to the medical unit, his eyes lighting up when he saw Q waiting outside. He didn't appear to have anything majorly wrong with him, just a few scrapes and bruises.

"Was I missed?" he smirked, his arms finding their place around Q's slim waist. Q smiled, cupping Bond's cheek and leaning in to assess the bruise forming above his eye.

"Somewhat."

"Just somewhat?"

Q smirked, pressing a quick kiss to Bond's forehead. "I may show you how much I missed you tonight."

"Well, I look forward to it. How's everything been without me?"

"Good. Better, even. Nothing blew up this week."

Bond chuckled, giving his lover a quick squeeze. "That's good to hear… Anyway, I have a medical to undergo, and then we can get off, and then maybe, we can get off."

"I'll wait here."

Bond nodded, pulling Q in for a warm kiss, dipping him dramatically before wandering in to the medical office. Q chuckled to himself and sat down, waiting patiently.

That evening, after a minor argument over whether Q needs to cut down on his tea intake, Q showed off what he'd learnt. After lying on the floor for a few moments, wide-eyed and completely stunned, Bond began laughing, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Jesus Christ, Q. On the hardwood floor?"

Q smirked, dropping to the floor beside him before swinging a leg over his waist, sitting on his crotch. "So… How did I do?"

Bond grinned, circling his hands around Q's waist. "You did beautifully… Did you, uh… learn anything else?"


	11. Gifts

**GIFTS**

_**Prompt: Bond brings back things from his missions - the fewer of Q's gadgets (or pieces) he brings back, the more (or more expensive) the gifts.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

It had become a game between the two of them now. A highly infuriating, but thoughtful game. Bond never returned with 100% of the equipment he left with, and instead returned with however much of the equipment he salvaged, and a gift that somehow reflected the worth of the equipment he'd not brought back.

Bond would present Q with his gift first, Q would guess what it was Bond had not returned with, before being presented with the equipment he had returned with. The more expensive the equipment, the more thoughtful the gift. Aside from the obvious annoyance with Bond not returning with equipment, Q was also getting annoyed that his small flat was becoming overridden with nick-nacks from all over the world. Really, all Q wanted was for Bond to return with what he left with.

But that was never going to happen.

Some of the gifts had their uses however. A pair of white-gold cufflinks to replace the radio transmitter he lost in Christchurch. A nice Rolex to replace the Beretta he destroyed in Rome. An expensive silk tie to replace the exploding pen Q had finally resolved to make.

Some of the gifts had no use at all, but were thoughtful nonetheless. The fossil of some small creature from China, the rather large mosquito preserved in solid amber from Australia, the gold-leafed Buddha from Thailand.

He let out a loud sigh when Bond strolled in to Q branch after his latest mission, his hands hidden behind his back.

"What's the damage this time?"

Bond smirked, dropping down a large box on Q's desk, pushing it towards the quartermaster. Q eyed it suspiciously before lifting the lid, peering in at the contents and gasping,

"James!"

Bond grinned, nodding.

"You actually… You actually salvaged all the equipment?!"

"I know the gun's in three pieces, and the phone's get a cracked screen, but… yes. All there."

Q lifted out the cracked phone, looking it over, a look of quiet awe on his face. He looked up, noticing Bond still had his hands hidden behind his back.

"So… What's behind your back?"

Bond smirked. "Who said there's anything behind my back?"

"Well, the look on your face says you've got something planned."

Chuckling, Bond put a small black box in front of Q, folding his arms over his chest. "It felt like such a shame to not return with anything for you. It had become a hobby of mine, browsing for things to get you once the job was over… So I bought you something anyway."

Q quirked a small smile, placing the phone back in to the box. "You needn't, James. My flat is becoming rapidly overburdened with your generosity."

"One more won't hurt, I'm sure."

Q shrugged, picking up the small box, opening it slowly, savouring the nervous look Bond tried but failed to conceal. Q's eyes widened, staring in at the contents.

"James… Explain yourself."

Bond cleared his throat, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "Is it not obvious, Q? I… I bought you a ring."

Q nodded, swallowing down a dry gulp. "I can see that… Why-why would you do that?"

Bond edged his way around the desk, taking the box from Q, plucking out the silver band from within. "Usually… Q… When one person buys another a ring, it's because… they wish that person to… well… marry them."

He slipped the ring on to Q's finger, waiting for him to say something in return. He looked up, smiling sheepishly at Q's blank stare.

"Q…?"

He could almost hear the gears turning in his quartermaster's head, his eyes flicking from the ring, to the box of (broken) equipment, to Bond's face, back down to the ring. He looked back up at Bond, his lips twitching at the corners, before he dived on him, pushing their lips together, grabbing at Bond's shoulders. Bond withheld his laugh, wrapping his arms around Q's wait, holding him tightly against his chest.

"You know, there's crueller ways to say no," Bond smirked, once they'd pulled away. Q laughed, hitting Bond's chest with no real effort.

"Shut up, you idiot!"

Still laughing, Bond pulled Q back in to another messy kiss, threading his fingers through his ruffled hair, keeping a firm grip on his thin waist.


	12. Upholding Tradition

**UPHOLDING TRADITION**

_**Prompt: Q and Bond share their first kiss under mistletoe on Christmas Eve at work!**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

James Bond unfortunately found his presence at the office Christmas party mandatory. And so on Christmas Eve, he was stood by the drinks table, fingering the stem of his glass of wine, looking out over the crowd of his co-workers in various stages of drunkenness shouting over the music and gyrating against one another.

He'd been told he could leave after midnight, and had two and a half more hours to kill until he could get the Hell out of there. He couldn't spot anyone else he actually wanted to talk to. Everyone seemed to actually be enjoying themselves, enjoying the festive season, and all the alcohol being served — a free bar was enough to put anyone in the holiday spirit. Not Bond, however, the Scrooge he was.

"Nothing worse than drunk co-workers over the Christmas season, eh?"

Bond spun around, Q was stood on the other side of the table, eyeing the spread suspiciously. He smirked, taking in the sight of the quartermaster, for once dressed up nicely. Not a cardigan in sight.

"So why are you here?"

Q looked up and smiled. "Tanner threatened to ban me from the premises tomorrow if I didn't attend."

"Why would you be here tomorrow?"

"Some of us don't have a family to go to, and so choose to work over Christmas."

Bond smirked. "That makes two of us."

"How did you find yourself here?"

"Blackmail. M threatened to have me fired."

Q snorted out a laugh, picking up a bread roll. "Would he really?"

Bond chuckled, draining the rest of his drink. "Probably."

"How long are you here for?"

"Until midnight."

"Same."

Q put the bread roll back down, wiping his hand clean on his suit jacket. Bond reached over to the collection of wine bottles, refilling his glass.

"Fancy skulking off to a corner somewhere? You can tell me all about the newest developments in Q branch."

Q smiled, picking up a glass of orange juice. "Certainly. Lead the way, Double-Oh."

Bond looked around the room, finding a nice quiet corner with seating. The lighting was dimmed in the corner, hopefully no one would see them and disturb them. As they sat down, Bond felt a quick tingle running through his body; he would be alone in a darkened corner with a particularly attractive guy. And not just any attractive guy, Q. The subject of a lot of his fantasies as of late. Despite his skinny frame, nervous ticks, large glasses that hid his eyes, and God-awful cardigans, Bond couldn't but want Q for his own.

"So, is there any inherent reason you hate Christmas?" Q asked, looking down in to his drink. Bond shrugged, leaning back, getting comfortable.

"No real reason, to be honest. It's just another bloody holiday, like Valentine's Day, Halloween… Why bother."

"You don't like Valentine's Day?"

Bond smirked. "Why, do you?"

"Not at all, but you… You just seemed the type."

"You shouldn't presume things, Q."

Q chuckled. "Very right."

"And yourself? Your hatred of this merry season?"

"It was never properly celebrated in my home, and I just continued the tradition of not making a big deal."

"I suppose it's always a good excuse to get absolutely pissed."

Q smiled, taking a quick sip of his drink. "I don't drink."

"No?"

"Never interested me."

Bond chuckled, swirling his drink around his glass. "It's fantastic. There's nothing better. Not even sex."

Q smiled nervously. "That's… quite sad."

"That I value alcohol over sex?"

"That alcohol is the only thing in your life."

"Well, it's not for lack of trying. It's hard to have a significant other in this line of business."

"I understand, but… drinking your life away?"

"I assure you, if anything kills me, it's not going to be the alcohol."

Q let out a quiet chuckle. "Well, there's always that… If you ever did — find a significant other — would you stop drinking?"

Bond shrugged, looking out over the crowd. "It depends… Probably."

It fell silent between the two; Bond staring down at his wine, taking the occasional sip, Q scanning the room, tapping out beat on his wrist. Bond tried desperately to find something to talk about. Anything. But he was no good at small talk, it infuriated him, and he knew Q wasn't really the chatty type either. Realistically they didn't have much in common, but Bond wanted him all the same.

He noticed Q give him a coy glance out of the corner of his eye, instantly looking away when he was caught. Bond smirked to himself, taking a larger gulp of his drink.

"Are you warm?"

Q looked up, shrugging.

"I'm feeling a little warm… Fancy a walk?"

"Sure."

Bond pulled himself to his feet, offering Q a hand up before leading the way out of the room, down a cool corridor. Q had left his drink behind, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets as he shuffled just behind Bond. Bond occasionally glanced over his shoulder, smiling at just how awkward Q managed to look. His usual type was confident, sexy, dangerous, and Q was only one of these things, and even then he was only dangerous if armed with a laptop and internet connection. But Q had his own allure.

"You always walk like you're on a mission."

Bond stopped, turning to look at the quartermaster. "What?"

"They way you walk, it's like you have somewhere to be, something to do. Even when you don't… It's a very confident walk."

"I'm a confident man."

Q smiled nervously, propping himself up against the wall. "You're a spy. You're who people expect you to be, so you tailor yourself to those ideals… Are you a confident man or a damn good actor?"

"Well… what do you think?"

"I suppose a good actor requires a certain level of confidence."

Bond smirked, taking a step closer to Q, folding a hand neatly in his trouser pocket. "That doesn't really answer the question."

"Well, if I had to pigeon-hole you as one or the other… I'd say you were a good actor."

"And what makes you say that?"

Q took his hands from his pocket, holding them instead, behind his back. "Every good actor has his tells, Bond. A confident man is a man who's sure of himself, he wouldn't question his decisions, or the decisions of his superiors… You're forever questioning everyone's decisions. And you falter more than you think. No one else may notice, that split second when you're not sure, but I do… I can see it in your eyes… Read it in your pulse. The way your breath isn't quite even…"

"You seem to know me quite well."

Q smiled. "I'm your quartermaster, I believe it's in my job description."

"So at what point during your being a boy genius did you get your Masters in psychology?"

Laughing nervously, Q pushed himself from the wall, slipping past Bond, walking further along the corridor. "Psychology was a little hobby of mine. Understanding people is like understanding computers."

Bond followed his quartermaster down the corridor, sitting beside him on a bench. "I feel like you should tell me something about yourself, seeing as you know all about me."

"There's nothing you can't learn about me that's no in my file. I'm a simple person."

"Oh I don't think you are. There's layers to you, like there's layers to anyone… You're just very good at concealing them."

"I suppose… it would take someone very good at undercover work to reveal them."

Bond smirked, finally draining his glass and placing it gently on the floor beside the bench. "Is that so?"

"Well, you tell me."

Bond chuckled, taking a long glance around at his surroundings. The corridor had a sense of sterility to it, white walls, white tiled floor, bright lights. He was sure once the cleaner had been through it would smell of disinfectant. The thought reminded him of how he loathed hospitals.

"Oh."

Bond looked back to Q, noticing he had his head tipped up. He looked up too, to see what was so fascinating. A sprig of mistletoe was hung above their heads. This was Bond's opportunity. He looked back down at Q, gauging his reaction to the tradition-maintaining plant.

"Curious, is it not. There's no record of why people share a kiss under the mistletoe, we just know it's something to do. A tradition. No one questions this tradition, no one questions the fact there's no actual reason for it — it's not for good luck, or prosperity, it's just… a tradition people uphold."

Bond nodded, his eyes studying Q's face for any kind of tell. "Curious indeed. Where do you stand on traditions." He was sure he saw the hint of a smirk in the corner of Q's mouth.

"Oh I uphold traditions very seriously."

Bond could feel himself drawing closer. "Is that so?"

"It is…"

It happened almost in slow motion, Q's eyelids fluttering closed, Bond's following immediately after; their noses brushing softly, Bond's lips puckering just slightly until they grazed against Q's. His hand quickly slipped up, cupping the quartermaster's cheek as Q caught Bond's bottom lip between his own. Bond let out a quiet groan, pressing himself harder against the smaller man, relishing the way Q's body embraced him.

Q's hand slipped inside Bond's jacket, curling around his waist, holding him closer to his own body. He felt Bond's tongue lick against the seam of his lips, his mouth parting willingly. He let out an involuntary moan as Bond licked at the roof of his mouth, his other arm curling around his shoulders, holding him in place.

"It's a shame we can't leave for another two hours," Bond murmured, pressing chaste kisses up the curve of Q's cheek. Q smiled, his fingers squeezing softly at the muscle of Bond's side.

"I'm sure I was told to just not leave the building."

Bond smirked, curling his fingers in Q's messy hair. "Are you suggesting we move this to a supply closet? How very high school of you."

Q laughed, resting his forehead against Bond's. "Well, I never did live a real teenager's life… But no, that wasn't what I was suggesting, exactly."

"What were you suggesting?"

Q pressed a quick kiss to Bond's lips, sliding from his grasp. "That we at least move this from where someone can stumble upon us."

"Well, both are good ideas."

Q laughed, holding out his hand for Bond to take. "Lead the way."


	13. Ada Lovelace

**ADA LOVELACE**

_**Prompt: something fluffy involving Q adopting a stray cat?**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

A big, important job forced Bond and Q to spend some time apart from each other. Q spent all his time down in Q branch, developing new gadgets for the agents to use on their missions, making sure everything was done right because there was no margin for ever. Bond spent ten days abroad doing recon, and when he was in England he was being briefed, and trained, and talked at, and consulted with. He had to undergo a series of physical and psychological tests.

The mission finally came and went, the amount of sheer preparation on the task meant it went off without a hitch — towns weren't half demolished, there were less explosions than necessary, only the people who were supposed to die, died, and Bond returned with the exact same equipment he left with.

Another day apart for debriefing and physical rehabilitation and Bond was finally allowed to follow Q home. Finally able to sink in to his squashy, over-stuffed armchair with a glass of scotch, watching his favourite quartermaster tap away at his laptop, always working, never switching off. It was something they had in common.

Come seven o'clock, Bond made his way down to Q branch, to save his lover from the new recruits and his work. Q lit up the moment Bond entered the lab, making sure everyone was busy with their work before throwing himself in to the agent's arms, pressing a litter of kisses to his face. Bond smiled, letting Q shower him with affection, linking his hands together over the small of his back.

"Are you ready?"

Q nodded, quickly rushing around his station, shutting down his computer, putting his things away and pulling his coat on, picking up his bag. Bond held out his arm, letting Q fit himself at his side, curling himself under the arm, before walking the two of them out of Q branch, out of headquarters, and in to the waiting taxi. Neither man said a word during the drive back to Q's flat, instead just curling up on the back seat, enjoying the other's company.

Bond could tell something was different the moment he set foot in to the flat. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. There was a certain smell in the air that he couldn't place. Q noticed Bond looking around suspiciously, and gave him a suspicious look of his own.

"Are you okay?"

Bond nodded, pulling off his shoes and lining them on the shoe-rack by the door. Q smiled, walking past and going through to the kitchen to boil the kettle. Bond wandered in to the living room, ready to collapse in his armchair after a long day. However, just abouts to collapse down, he noticed it was already occupied, by a small, slightly mangy looking cat. He stared down at the cat in horror, the cat peering back up at him, almost uninterested by his presence.

"Q!"

He could hear Q taking cups out of the cupboards, grabbing a spoon from the cutlery drawer. "What?!"

"There's a cat in my chair!"

Q popped his head around the door. "What?"

"There's a bloody mangy cat, sitting on my chair."

Q suddenly got a look on his face, like he'd just remembered something he'd left at work. "Oh, yeah… That's Ada. I adopted her."

"What did you adopt a bloody cat for?!"

He left the chair problem behind for a moment, following Q back in to the kitchen. Q shrugged innocently, dropping a teabag in to each mug.

"She was a stray, hanging out down in the alley. All alone, no one to look after her. Malnourished, close to catching pneumonia… And I was lonely. I missed you and well… It made sense at the time."

Bond sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm gone for a few weeks and you replace me? With a cat?"

"Not replace you! Just…"

"You bloody replaced me! And even worse, it's in my chair!"

"It, has a name, James. And she's friendly enough. I'm sure you'll love her by the end of the night, it's hard not to."

"Fine. Fine. It's your flat, your life… I can't very well demand you get rid of her, especially seeing as you seem so attached…"

Q's eyes lit up, a cautious smile spreading across his lips. "Really? You don't mind?"

Bond let out a resigned sigh, letting Q mould himself to his side. "I don't mind… What's her name, again?"

"Ada."

"And what kind of name is that?"

Q got a strange look on his face, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. "Ada Lovelace created the first algorithm intended to be processed by a machine."

Bond paused, looking down at his lover before shaking his head, rolling his eyes. "Of course. You get a pet and name it after something to do with computers! I should have guessed."

"And what would you have called her? Beretta?"

Bond laughed, wrapping his arms loosely around Q, pressing a kiss to his mop of hair. "I wouldn't have adopted her. But she's your cat, you name her whatever you bloody want. Just get her out of my chair."


	14. The Worst Kind of Torture

**THE WORST KIND OF TORTURE**

_**Prompt: Q is ticklish and Bond finds out. Surprising results**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

James knew all of a body's secrets came out whilst it was asleep. And he knew he shouldn't really be poking about for secrets whilst his lover slept, but it was by complete accident he happened upon a particular one.

Q had finally succumbed to exhaustion from being awake so long. His long hours put in at Q branch, doing his own work and correcting people's mistakes, before Bond whisked him back home and fucked him gently in to the mattress. His eyes slid shut almost immediately, his breaths coming out in a soft puffs, his fingers twitching like he was coding in his dreams.

James smiled, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping for a while yet, rolling on to his side to face Q, watching him sleep. Q was innocent looking most of the time — it was the big hair, thick glasses, and young face — but in his sleep he looked simply angelic, even if there was semen drying on his stomach.

He reached out gently, pushing Q's sweaty tangle of hair from his face, stroking two fingers down his cheek. Q let out an almost inaudible moan, his hand flopping towards his face, scratching at his cheek before flopping back down on the bed. Bond's heart clenched, it was hard for him to believe how far and hard he'd fallen for the skinny little quartermaster.

He continued stroking his fingers over Q's soft skin; tracing the tendons in his neck, stroking a finger along his prominent collar bone, carefully poking at the little bite marks he'd left earlier. It didn't take much for Q to bruise; Bond hadn't thought it possible to actually leave finger marks on someone's hips during quite athletic sex, but with Q's pale complexion, the marks showed up almost instantly. Bond loved it, Q didn't mind so long as the marks were easily concealable.

His fingers continued their journey, stroking the outline of what would be his left pectoral — if he put in any time at the gym, his thumb rubbing against the brownish nub of his nipple. Q let out another quiet moan, shifting slightly in his sleep, curling a little towards Bond. Bond already knew his nipples were sensitive, it was his go-to area to get Q in the mood when he was being stubborn.

Bond's lips quirked in to a self-satisfied smirk as he recalled the events that had just transpired in the bed he was sprawled in. The image of the now innocent, sleeping quartermaster writhing beneath him, moaning loud enough to wake the neighbours if the walls weren't soundproofed, grabbing on to Bond's arms like he was about to fall. Touching Q invoked some kind of sense memory in Bond, and all were particularly wonderful memories. Not all of those memories were of their sexual encounters… but most were.

Bond's hand stopped swirling patterns in to Q's pale skin with his fingers, trailing down to his side, stroking over the even softer skin of his waist. If Q sucked in, Bond was sure he'd be able to fit his hands around the quartermaster's waist, he was so thin. At the start of their relationship was afraid of somehow snapping Q in half or breaking one of his skinny bones. But Q had proved repeatedly he could handle whatever Bond could throw at him; Bond should have learned from their first meeting to never underestimate the quartermaster.

As his fingers continued exploring Q's soft expanse of skin, they trailed up towards the span just underneath his underarm. A finger traced soft circles in to the skin, Q let out a small shiver, shifting his arm over to cover the skin Bond was touching. Bond smirked, gently easing the arm away, stroking the skin again. Q twitched again, a little more violently, coupling it with a groan. So Q was ticklish. Bond logged away the piece of information, planning to use it another day.

Another day, turned out to be, in fact, the very next day. At midday, he hurried out to get some food for himself and Q, knowing he'd forget to eat, and made his way down to Q branch. He marched in to Q's office, like he had every right to be there, placed the food on the desk and marched through the side door that led to the labs. Q was hunched over one of the tables with a middle-aged woman, tinkering with a motherboard — he'd learnt what a motherboard was after he'd described one as a big microchip, and Q laughed right in his face.

"Excuse me, I need to borrow your boss," Bond grinned, wrapping an arm around Q's bicep. Q tried to pull away, dropping his tiny screwdriver on to the table.

"Bond, I have work to be doing!"

The woman just laughed, waving a hand in their direction. "Just go, it'll be fine."

Bond tipped his head at her in thanks, dragging Q through to his office. Q sighed loudly, folding his arms over his chest as Bond pulled a chair over to Q's desk.

"What was so important you had to interrupt my upgrading of M's motherboard?"

"M can wait. Come on, lunch."

Q looked over as Bond pulled out a plastic container of salad from the Greek restaurant they frequented too often. He huffed out a resigned sigh, plonking himself down in his chair. They started eating in silence, not too much to say to one another, Bond taking large bites of his gyro and Q stabbing the leaves of his salad.

"So… what does M need his computer upgrading for?"

Q smiled, piercing a chunk of cucumber on the end of his fork. "Well, general memory upgrades, upgrading his graphics card because his is several years out of date. And I spent all week programming a bunch of security coding on to a chip, no bigger than a five-pee, to install."

"Why so small?"

"So if the computer is stolen it shouldn't be recognised. It should work, theoretically, and if it does M's computer will be the second most unhackable computer in England."

Bond chuckled. "After yours, I presume?"

"Of course… And I'll be honest, most of the work on M's computer is just cleaning it. Computers get so dusty."

They continued discussing Q's work with computers all through their lunch date, although it was a pretty one-sided conversation. Bond eventually had to force Q's silence by covering the quartermaster's lips with his own. Q let out a quiet moan, relaxing in to Bond's arms, his own arms slowly threading around the agent's neck. Bond pulled Q out of his chair, pushing him up against his desk; his hands trailed up Q's sides, fingers stroking just under his arms.

Q let out a quiet squeak in to Bond's mouth, his arms jerking down by his sides. His face flushed, eyes widening as Bond just smirked at him.

"Ticklish?"

"No…"

Bond continued to smirk, hands sliding up from Q's waist. Q tried to wriggle out of Bond's grip, pushing himself away from the table. Bond just stalked after him, walking him back and forth around the room until he had him cornered. Q looked terrified, folding his arms across his chest. Bond just chuckled, managing to pry his arms apart.

"James don't. Please. Don't do this."

Bond clamped his hand around Q's wrists, holding them above his head and pinned them to the wall. Q was writhing beneath him, trying his best to get away but Bond was much too strong, pressing their hips together to keep Q still.

"Seriously, James, don't. This is considered torture!"

Bond chuckled, pressing his free hand against Q's chest, softly tracing his hands over his clothed chest before holding the zip between his fingers, pulling it down and unzipping his cardigan, pushing it up. Q tried his best to get away, wriggling about as much as he could. Bond traced his fingers back up Q's chest, across to his armpit, seeing how much of a reaction he could pull from Q through his clothes. Q's instinct reaction was to try and jerk away, but Bond was still too strong.

"Please, James. Stop."

"Calm down, Q, I'm not going to hurt you."

Q let out a gasp as Bond made small circular motions with his finger. "Stop tickling me, then! It's not… nice."

Bond chuckled, pressing their chests together. "Do you have any other ticklish bits I should know about?"

"Just the soles of my feet, but please! Don't."

Bond traced his fingers over the spot once more, Q still writhing in his grip before he mashed their lips together, relinquishing his hold on Q's wrists. Q let himself sink in to the kiss for a few moments before shoving Bond away, taking a few strides to get away from him.

"You're a bastard, James Bond."

Bond smiled, taking a few cautious steps towards the quartermaster. "I know, I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You'd do it again in an instant!"

"I'm just learning your weaknesses, so I know best how to defend you."

Q scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as Bond got closer. "Yeah, right… I think you should tell me one of your weaknesses to compensate."

Bond stepped up behind the quartermaster, sliding his arms around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. "You're my only real weakness, Q."

Q said nothing for a few moments, before snorting and turning to face Bond. "That's just… crap. Do women really buy this shit you tell them? Lines don't work on me, Mr Bond. Besides, I can't very well hold myself hostage to get back at you!"


	15. The Weekend Off

**THE WEEKEND OFF**

_**Prompt: In your "Q adopts a cat" story, you wrote that adorable bit with Q being affectionate to Bond and Bond wrapping his arm around Q and I want more of this! Please, a fic about some sweet, innocent pda when the two of them are out just as civilians.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Days off were few and far between when working for MI-6. Bond was either on missions all over the world, risking life and limb for Queen and country, and when he wasn't he was hanging around headquarters, putting in office hours because he wasn't allowed to recuperate at home.

Q had a lot of work to do, heading Q branch — equipment to design, and create, and test. Mistakes to correct, research to conduct, agents to direct, and piles and piles of paperwork to fill out.

Both men were amazed they managed to sustain a relationship with their hectic schedules and Bond's subconscious need to throw himself in front of every bullet. So they were pleasantly surprised when Eve collared them as they left for home one evening, telling them she'd pulled strings and they had the upcoming weekend off. Bond made a mental note to send her flowers, or chocolates, or small fluffy animals; whatever the protocol was for when someone did them a huge favour. Q just wore a relaxed smile for rest of the evening, wondering what the weekend would have in store for them.

The weekend finally arrived, Bond was told to relax, there were eight other double-oh agents ready to jump in the line of fire and to just enjoy his time off with Q. Q was similarly warned by his next-in-command that they could hold the fort, and he mustn't ring, email, or even hack the systems to keep an eye on things.

On Saturday, James and Q found themselves having a proper breakfast, sitting at the kitchen table enjoying each other's company instead of their usual swig of tea and a piece of toast stuffed in their mouth as they rushed out of the door. Q wore one of Bond's t-shirts, hanging off his skinny frame, revealing a little too much collar bone. Bond loved seeing Q in his clothes, poking at the little possessive part of him. Half-heartedly browsing through the morning paper, his lips twitched as he felt Q's cold foot stroke up the inside of his leg. He folded over the corner of his paper, glancing across at his lover. Q was staring at his tablet, tapping at the screen, muttering something about codes.

"You're not supposed to be working."

Q smiled. "I'm not, this is just a hobby thing."

"Who are you hacking today?"

"Google."

Bond rolled his eyes, rustling his paper. "Why?"

"Why not."

"You need a real hobby."

"I thought we agreed to not judge each other's life choices."

"We did. I'm not. Just… Have you thought about what you want to do today?"

Q put his tablet down in favour of slipping his hand through the handle of his mug. "I thought we could just wander around town today. See what's been going on."

Bond nodded, folding his paper and dropping it on to the table. "Very good. Anywhere specific you'd like to go?"

"Nope, so long as I'm with you."

"Lovely. I'm going to go vomit."

Q laughed, giving Bond a sharp kick to the shin. "I'm only trying to show my love for you."

"You not shooting me in the leg is evidence enough. Such as me not shutting off the electric is proof I love you."

"You know, I don't think we have a conventional relationship."

Bond smirked, stretching his arms over his head, letting the bones crack in to place. "What gave you that idea?"

—

Their day out in London was nice and relaxing; being out and about as civilians took away most of the pressure of life. Bond let Q twist their fingers together, keeping a possessive grip on his hand as they wandered aimlessly through the streets, linking their arms together instead on particularly busy streets.

Bond smiled at Q's angry rambles about Starbucks slowly taking over the world, putting smaller cafés who brewed tea better out of business. He rambled about how city life was stupidly expensive, and how city people were stupidly ignorant, and how city pigeons were just stupid. He pointed out particular buildings, explaining their history, or revealing facts he thought were interesting.

They finally found a café that served tea properly and sat in the seats outside, enjoying the rare warmth of a day in England. Q's hands fidgeted nervously, lost with no electronic device to play with, having left them all at home. To keep his fingers occupied, Bond reached over and threaded his fingers between Q's bony digits. Q smiled, rubbing his thumb over the rough skin of the back of Bond's hand, staring up at the surrounding buildings.

Bond never felt like he and Q were a proper couple, they didn't get the chance. They never held hands in public in case anyone saw who shouldn't have. They never spent any time on sex, having hurried fumbles under the sheets when really Bond wanted to slowly take Q apart, piece by piece. Their cuddles were also rushed, a brief holding of each other as they calmed down from their quick shag before getting back to something important. Bond never really got the chance to just look at Q, to drink in the sight of the man he loved; all pale skin and messy hair, prominent cheek bones, strong jaw, and wide eyes.

Q noticed Bond staring at him, his eyes flickering down at the table as a blush crept up his cheeks. Bond smiled, giving Q's hands a quick squeeze before pulling them away.

"Come on, finish your tea and let's get moving."

Q nodded, draining his mug and linked his arm through James', letting himself be led away. Waiting at a crossroad, Bond pulled his arm away before draping it over Q's shoulders, pulling him against his side. Q smiled, slipping his arm around Bond's waist, holding on like he had no intention of ever letting go.

"Let's go see Nelson," Bond said, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of Q's head. Q nodded his agreement, enjoying the warmth of Bond's body pressed against his own.

Trafalgar Square wasn't too busy; teenagers milling around in groups, screeching and messing about; lone people staring around looking anxiously at their phone; tourists taking pictures in front of the lions, one over enthusiastic child trying his hardest to climb on the back of one. Q wandered towards the fountain, gingerly sitting himself down. Bond stood beside him, gently carding his fingers through his soft hair, scraping his nails against his scalp. Q let out a pleased hum, resting his head against Bond's stomach, letting his eyes fall closed, his hands tucked between his legs. Bond smiled, pushing Q's hair back from his face, letting it flop back over his forehead, combing through the loose knots.

Q cracked his eyes open slightly, looking around at the people. A young couple were reading together on the steps, the man sat up straight, book in one hand, other hand lost in his girlfriend's hair whilst she lay beside him, head pillowed in his lap. He thought of the few moments he and James managed to steal away in their flat. Bond sat reading a file, Q smushed up against his side on his laptop, neither saying a word but enjoying the other's company nonetheless.

Bond's hand fell from his hair; he looked up curiously as Bond moved in front of him, holding out his hand. Q took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. Bond snaked his arms around his lover's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Q smiled, lazily draping his arms around Bond's neck, laying his head on his shoulder. Bond let his lips curl in to a warm smile, burying his face in to Q's hair, letting his hands rub soothing circles in to the small of his back.

"I love you," Q smiled, letting his eyelids fall shut. Bond pressed several kisses to the nape of Q's neck, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"I love you too."


	16. Slow

**SLOW**  
**Sequel to ****_Weekend Off_**

_**Prompt: Bond takes Q apart slowly, for once.**_  
_**Rating: Explicit**_  
_**Warning(s): Sexual content**_

* * *

After their relaxing day off, Bond wasted no time getting Q down on the bed as soon as they got home. The moment they were both through the door Bond had Q pushed up against the wall, his hands slipping their way underneath his coat, pushing it from his shoulders. Q let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the wall as Bond pressed wet kisses up his neck, calloused fingers stroking over his collar bone.

Coats were shed and shoes were kicked off. Bond mashed their lips together messily, his hands gripping Q's waist tightly as he tried to steer them towards the bedroom. They stumbled over each other's feet, falling into one another and the wall, chuckling into each other's mouths whilst their hands still grabbed at their clothes.

Bond pushed Q's cardigan from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor before pushing him hard against the wall, grabbing his thighs and wrapping them around his waist. Q grunted into Bond's neck whilst trying to cling on to his lover's shoulders, letting himself be carried through to the bedroom. Instead of being dropped hastily onto the bed like he expected, Bond lay Q down quite gently, covering his small frame with his larger body, his fingers skating over the warm skin underneath his thin shirt.

"James…"

Bond smiled, undoing each button of Q's shirt, pressing warm kisses to his chest as it was slowly revealed. "I've got you."

Q moaned quietly, his eyes fluttering closed as Bond pulled his shirt from under him, throwing it behind him, and gently taking his glasses from his face and setting them on the bedside table. Bond smiled down at Q lay out in front of him, a pink flush on his cheeks, spreading over his chest slightly, his hair a tangled mess atop his head.

"You're so beautiful," James sighed against Q's stomach, trailing his lips over the soft skin, biting down on his protruding hip bones. Q groaned, writhing underneath him. Bond fully intended to take his time tonight; there'd be no hurried groping and kissing, no quick shags still half-dressed. He had all the time in the world to take Q apart piece by piece, and it was exactly what he intended to do.

He quickly stripped off his own jacket and shirt, tossing them unceremoniously to the floor before slowly crawling up Q's body, curling a hand around his waist to push him further up the bed. Q smirked up at Bond, stretching his limbs out, lifting a hand to stroke through Bond's short hair.

"I love you."

Bond smiled, pressing his lips against Q's in a chaste kiss. "I love you too." He trailed wet kisses down Q's neck, nipping the skin gently between his teeth, sucking small red marks and soothing them with a flick of his tongue. Q continued to writhe underneath him, his back arching. Bond licked a stripe along Q's collar, whilst pushing his knee up against his crotch, letting out a quiet gasp when he felt his lover grind up against his thigh. Q let out a low groan, his hands reaching out to grab at Bond, pulling him closer and mashing their lips together. Bond grunted, one of his hands flying to Q's hair, tangling his fingers in the brown locks.

"Please, Bond… I know you want to take your time, but I need you to hurry up… Please…"

Bond nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Q's forehead. "Fine. Later then."

Q nodded, his eyes fluttering shut again. "Later."

Bond's hands stroked down Q's front, down to his slacks, thumbing the button undone before unzipping the fly. Q let out another quiet moan as Bond's hands brushed over his crotch, his hips bucking up as his trousers were pulled from his waist and down his legs. His quirky, odd socks were pulled off too, and Q was left writhing on the bed in just his boxers, his erection tenting the fabric.

"Are you going to join me, James? Or just gawk at me?"

Bond smirked, quickly unbuckling his belt. "Perhaps I should take a picture, it would, as they say, last longer."

"Perhaps you should hurry up and get over here before I start without you."

Bond yanked the leather from the belt-loops, it making a loud thwipping noise in the near-silence of the room, clattering to the floor with the rest of their clothing. Q smirked, propping himself up on his elbows, watching Bond hungrily as he unzipped his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles. He quickly pulled off his socks and boxers and crawled back onto the bed, kissing his way up Q's chest and neck until they were level.

Q lurched forwards, capturing Bond's lips with his own, curling his arms around his thick neck, holding him down. Bond smirked into Q's mouth, his hand's latching on to Q's waist, his fingers almost meeting in the middle. He licked at the seam of Q's lips, letting out a quiet moan when he felt Q's tongue slip out and lick into his mouth. For a while, the only sounds in the room were of their heavy breathing and the wet noises of their mouths sliding together and their lips smacking. Bond couldn't remember the last time he made out with someone like he was a horny teenager, but simply being with Q made him feel a lot younger.

Their hips ground together, Q bucking up to meet Bond as he thrust against his thigh, leaving a wet smear of precome. Bond quickly hooked his fingers in Q's boxers, pulling them down and off his legs, flinging them to the other side of his room before grabbing his hips roughly, pinning Q down to the bed. Q groaned, feeling Bond's fingers dig into his hips, grinding his head back against the pillows.

Pulling Q's leg up around his waist, Bond lined up their hips before grinding them together; Q let out a guttural moan, his fingers twisting in the sheets. It had been too long since Bond had seen Q so desperate and needy, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body, his knuckles white from his tight grip; he desperately wanted to move things on, but he desperately wanted to see how far he could push Q, see what his limits were. He continued grinding their hips together, thrusting up into the dip of Q's thigh, letting out little grunts to match Q's moans. It wasn't enough friction to get them off, and instead wound Q up even more.

Q lifted his head, cracking his eyes open, trying to focus on Bond. Bond glanced up, shooting him a quick smirk before grinding his hips down extra hard. Q gasped, his head falling back onto the pillows. Bond leant forward, taking Q's nipple in his mouth, biting softly and toying the nub with with tongue until Q was writhing and moaning even more.

"Damnit, Bond… Fucking hurry… Hurry up…"

Bond chuckled, leaning up to press a litter of kisses up Q's neck to his lips before reaching for Q's hand. He quickly propped himself up properly with his other arm, using the hand he had on Q's to wrap their fingers around their cocks. With the extra friction, it didn't take Q long to lose control, his hips bucking up wildly, thrusting into his and Bond's hands. Bond let his head drop onto Q's shoulder, his eyes clenched shut as he groaned wantonly, thrusting in time with Q.

His breath caught in his throat when he came, biting down on the juncture of Q's neck, barely noticing the smaller man jerk beneath him, letting out a long, low moan. He jerked them both slowly, until they were both spent before pushing himself back, sitting on his haunches. Q was a mess; panting, his eyes still screwed shut, his hair more of a mess than usual, come slowly drying on his stomach. He could barely hold back the affectionate smile that swept over his face, leaning back down to press soft kisses up his lover's chest and neck, savouring the quiet whimpers he let out.

"Are you okay, dear?"

A sheepish grin spread across Q's face, an eye barely cracking open. "I'm fine Bond… Twenty minutes?"

Bond nodded, covering Q's mouth with his own, licking into the smaller man's mouth, swallowing the quiet groans of pleasure. "Twenty minutes and I'll take you apart for real."


	17. Get Your Coat, Love

**GET YOUR COAT, LOVE**

_**Prompt: Bond quotes poetry at Q sometimes. Q usually rolls his eyes and shoos him away, but sometimes it makes him swoon**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): Crack**_  
_**AN: I'd noticed there were quite a few drabbles where Bond tries to woo Q with poetry, so I went in a different direction, and came up with this cracky little thing.**_

* * *

The first time it happened, Q was definitely not expecting it. He'd just finished explaining the functions of the new equipment he had in development, Bond showing a keen interest to test them out once they were ready. There was nothing more to be said, and Q was just going to dismiss Bond when he was interrupted. The agent stepped up to Q, cupping his hands around one of his own and stared in to his eyes.

"I'm going to take a little time. A little time to look around me. I've got nowhere left to hide. It looks like love has finally found me."

Q stared at Bond, wide-eyed, he felt like his stomach had dropped. Bond just smirked at him, his thumb stroking over Q's pulse.

"Did… Did you just quote Foreigner at me?"

Bond chuckled, dropping Q's hands. "Maybe."

"Is this… your idea of trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, I'm going to have to try harder."

And with that, Bond strolled out of the lab, leaving an extremely bewildered quatermaster behind.

Bond's attempts at wooing Q just got worse and worse from that moment. After every serious conversation they had, Bond would try out a new line in the hopes Q would fall head over heels. He never did.

—

"And I'd give up forever to touch, 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I've ever been, and I don't want to go home right now."

Q sighed, unimpressed. "I hate that song, all the girls used to sing it in school."

—

"I could stay awake, just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you're far away and dreaming."

"You're confusing romance with crazy stalking again."

—

"Take me as I am. Take my life. I would give it all, I would sacrifice."

Q snorted, not even looking up from his computer screen. "I think it's time for you to leave now, Bond."

Bond sighed, pulling himself out of the chair. "One day, Q."

"That day will never come if you ever quote Bryan Adams at me again."

"Duly noted."

—

"I would do anything for love. Anything you've been-"

"No. Go away please."

Bond frowned. "What?"

"Add Meat Loaf to the list along with Bryan Adams."

Bond let out a loud sigh. "This is hard when I don't know any of the obscure bands you listen to."

"But if I told you it'd be all too easy. You like a challenge, no?"

—

"It's been a long time since I came around. Been along time but I'm back in town, and this time I'm not leaving without you."

Q let out a loud snort, trying his best to hold back the loud laugh that wanted to come out. "Lady Gaga?! Are you even trying here?!"

Bond smirked, backing out of the room. "It was worth a try."

—

"Get your coat, love, you've pulled."

"Sod off."

—

"Let me not the marriage of true minds, admit impediments, love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove."

Q looked up, quirked a small smiled. "O no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken."

"It is the star to every wand'ring bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."

"Sonnet one-sixteen, very good."

Bond smirked, leaning back in his seat. "And?"

"Well, at least it's not Lady Gaga."

"Is that a… yes?"

Q chuckled, closing the lid of his laptop. "It's more of a surrender. I think it's easier to just give in then put up with any more of this. Congratulations, Mr Bond, you win. You get to take me out to lunch."


	18. Not Water Friendly

**NOT WATER FRIENDLY**

_**Prompt: Q doesn't know how to swim, Bond finds this out the hard way. I'd love you forever if you could include a CPR/mouth-to-mouth scene and possibly some cuddles?**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

MI-6 found a way around getting Q to avoid joining Bond on some of the more technical missions; if they couldn't send him by land or air, then sea would have to do. Q had his equipment packed in his case, everything waterproofed in case the worst happened — which, knowing Bond, would probably happen.

For optimum safety, Bond and Q had to switch ships halfway through the journey, the two of them climbing down in to a speedboat, joined by two rather bulky crew-members. Crew-members who took joy in watching Q squirm, the way he almost turned green as the boat rocked. Bond tried not to smirk at Q's obvious discomfort, but couldn't help but find it endearing when the quartermaster let out a groan as the boat lurched on the waves.

"C'mon, lad, stop bein' such a bloody girl!"

Q glared at the crew-member, clutching on to the side of the boat. "Please, leave me alone."

"Look, kid. There's nothin' more beautiful than the open sea! Look! Take it all in!"

He managed to uncurl Q's fingers and pull him to his feet, draping an arm over his shoulders and motioning to the blue surrounding them. Q panicked, having nothing sturdy to hold on to. The crew-member laughed again, beginning to rock the boat; Bond frowned, watching Q panic even more, trying to keep his balance. He made it to the edge, just about to collapse down and cling on for dear life when the boat gave another violent lurch, sending Q tumbling over the edge. Bond jumped to his feet, watching the panicked splashing of his quartermaster as the boat continued it's journey.

"Q!"

"Bond! Help!"

Bond grabbed the crew-members jacket, giving him a violent shake. "What the fuck do you think you're playing at?!"

The crew-member frowned, a look of guilt on his face. "We were just muckin' around."

"Bond! No rush…" Q was cut off as his face dipped under the water, he resurfaced coughing water from his lungs. "…But I can't swim!"

Bond began muttering every swear word he knew, stripping off his suit jacket and diving in to the water. Q was still flailing, inadvertently splashing water back in to his face until his head dipped below again. Bond swam as hard and fast as he could, the few moments he'd taken to chastise the crew-member had put more distance between them than he'd thought. He cracked his eyes open in the murky water, trying to see if he could see Q; he managed to make out the skinny body of his quartermaster, slowly sinking further in to the water.

He swam as fast as he could, finally reaching Q, grabbing his arm and pulling him back up to the surface. When they broke the surface, Q didn't take in a heaving gulp of air like Bond hoped he would, instead he bobbed lifelessly beside him.

"Fuck, come on, Q!"

Slinging Q's arm over his shoulder, Bond began to make his way back to the boat which had finally turned around to fetch them. The crew-member who'd rocked the boat reached out, grabbing Q's arms and hoisting him out of the water, sprawling him out in the bottom of the boat. Bond quickly heaved himself over the side, collapsing at Q's side, holding his ear over his mouth to listen for breathing.

"Fucking fuck!"

Quickly wiping a hand over his face to try and get rid of some of the water, he jumped straight in to his training; linking one hand over the other, giving firm chest compressions before pinching his nose and sealing their mouths together, breathing two sharp breaths in to his mouth before repeating. After another ten compressions, Q began spluttering, water spurting from his mouth as he rolled on to his side, choking and gasping for air. Bond let out a loud sigh of relief, falling to his back-side, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

"Jesus… Thank fuck."

Q peered up, his face tinged red as he still tried to empty his lungs of sea water. "Bond?"

"Welcome back, Q."

The crew-member dragged over the first aid chest, pulling out a blanket. Bond took it from him, grabbing Q's wrist and pulling him, draping the blanket over him and pulling him back against his chest. Q made a weak sound of protest, but relaxed in Bond's arms, his chest heaving for full breaths of air. Bond locked his arms around Q's small body, letting his fingers thread through his wet hair, trying his best to soothe the quartermaster.

"I notice my glasses stayed on," Q croaked, shifting in Bond's grip. Bond chuckled, pressing his nose to the nape of Q's neck.

"You're a lucky man."

"Can I have it written in to my contract that I never ever leave the country?"

Bond nodded. "Of course. Besides, I wouldn't get much done if I had to rush around saving you all the time."

Q smiled, curling up in Bond's arms, resting his head against his shoulder. Bond finally let out the tense breath he'd been holding. Q was safe, Q was alive, Q was finding comfort in his arms. Neither man said a word, curling up together at the back of the boat as it continued its journey to the other ship.

Once they boarded the other ship, Bond ushered Q straight to his cabin, pushing him in to the shower, waiting for him to emerge groggily, still worn out from his ordeal before wrapping him in a towel, dragging him over to his bed. He quickly changed his own clothes, too worried about Q's well being to care about modesty, crawling in to bed beside the quartermaster, pulling his head on to his lap. Q let out a quiet puff of air, snuggling even closer.

"Thank you, Bond. For looking after me."

Bond smiled, running his fingers through Q's damp hair. "It's fine, Q. I need you alive. You know I'll be a wreck without you."


	19. Conflictions

**CONFLICTIONS**

_**Prompt: Q becomes increasingly annoyed when a mission requires Bond to seduce someone. Bond tries to make it up to him**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q and Tanner were sat in Q's lab, in front of the huge collection of screens mounted on the wall. Q had his laptop in front of him, tapping at the keys. On the screens was grainy footage of a bar in Bucharest. Bond was perched on a stool, looking around the dark room like a hawk. Over the speakers, Q and Tanner could hear the noise of the bar through the microphone pinned to Bond's lapel.

"Incoming, Bond. Red dress," Tanner declared, his eyes trained on the woman who'd just entered the frame of the main camera. Bond motioned to the barman to make him another drink, turning towards the woman.

Tanner noticed the way Q's watchful gaze was now trained on his laptop and the lines upon lines of code on the screen instead of on Bond. "Q? Are you paying attention?"

Q nodded, not even looking up. "I can see in my peripheral, but I need to focus on this code. Besides, it's not like Bond needs any pointers from me on how to pick up women in bars." His tone of voice betrayed whatever secret he was trying to keep. Tanner eyed him suspiciously, but decided to focus on the mission instead of why their quartermaster was suddenly full of angst.

"She has the USB on her person at all times, you need to steal it."

Bond gave a small gesture to show he'd understood Tanner's demand, whilst still focusing on the woman. Q suddenly scoffed.

"Stupid criminals. Who even bothers with flash-drives for information storage any more? Especially top secret information storage. Do they transfer files via bluetooth, too?"

Tanner rolled his eyes, rolling his eyes again when he saw a flash of a smirk on Bond's lips. "Focus, Bond."

Bond continued to flirt with the woman, using his smooth lines, his tried and tested come ons until she was leading him from the bar. Tanner couldn't help but notice Q sink lower and lower in his seat as Bond flirted with the woman. He made a mental note to have a talk with him when he suddenly bolted from the room when Bond and the woman flashed back on screen via a camera trained outside the bar, Bond pushing the woman against the wall and pressing their lips together.

"Now would be a decent time to shut off communication until you've finished, Bond. I don't quite fancy hearing you do your business."

The woman pushed away from Bond, sashaying up the street; Bond lingered slightly behind.

"I'll reconnect when I have the USB."

"Hopefully Q will be back by then, seeing as I have no bloody clue how to use this equipment."

"Q's gone?"

"Legged it the moment you started macking on our target, though he'd been looking pretty uncomfortable for a while. Could just need a piss. Anyway, you go, I'll go find our quartermaster."

"Very good."

—

Bond was still milling around headquarters hours after he was due to go home, trying to find Q. He wasn't in his office or in the labs, he knew he hadn't gone home and no one had seen him. He'd tried intel, and the computer labs, he wasn't in the cafeteria and he hadn't been admitted to medical. Then again, if a computer genius and hacker wanted to hide in plain sight, Bond was sure he could do it.

"Bond! Looking for your little cardigan-wearing genius?"

Bond spun around; Eve Moneypenny was walking towards him, a stack of folders in her arms. He nodded, casually pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the screen.

"You've seen him?"

"Fifth floor, the corridor no one ever uses. There's a small alcove with a radiator, he's there. He likes to be alone."

"Thanks."

Bond hurried through the building, racing up the stairs to the fifth floor, weaving through all the office space to the corridor everyone ignored in favour of the newer corridor with the conveyor belt. Upon opening the door, Bond could hear the faint sound of tapping, echoing through the empty walls. He quietly followed the noise until he happened upon the alcove. Crouching, Bond peered in to see Q sat cross-legged, his laptop balanced on his knees, his fingers flying over the keys.

"Q."

"I see Eve has betrayed the location of my solitary space."

Bond smiled sadly. "I was looking for you."

"I know."

Letting out a quiet sigh, Bond got to his knees, squeezing himself in the space beside the quartermaster. Q was typing up his report on the mission; Bond's eyes instantly spotted the paragraph detailing his encounter with the red dressed woman.

"Q… I'm sorry."

Q shrugged easily, a bored look on his face. "What for?"

"You know what for."

"You're just doing your job."

"You know… I don't enjoy it."

"Please don't lie to me… I know you're just doing your job. I know sex with marks is part of that job sometimes. But… having to sit and watch? Watch you touch her like you'd touch a lover. Like you touch me? Listen to you whisper promises in her ear? However empty? Watch you pretend you're this… unattached, single guy? Like there's not someone waiting for you at home? Like I'm not worrying if you'll ever come home? Scared the last thing I'll ever see of you is you sticking your tongue down another woman's throat?"

Bond could hear the cracks in Q's voice; he let out a soft sigh, curling his arms around Q's shoulders, pulling his head against his chest. "I'm sorry, Q. I'm so sorry."

"I thought I could handle it, James, but I can't. I knew what I was getting into, with you, but sometimes… Sometimes I don't know…"

Bond pressed a soft litter of kisses to the back of Q's neck, tightening his hold of him. "I love you, Q. Don't ever forget that. It's always you I'll come back to."

"And when you don't come back?"

"I'll always come back. I can't be killed Q, it's in my file. Many have tried, many have come close — Eve's the closest, but I'm here still. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

Q finally let out a quiet chuckle. Bond smiled, pressing another kiss to Q's mess of hair.

"If it'll ease your mind, I'll resign from field duty. I hear there's a desk somewhere with my name on it."

"No, Bond, you love your work."

"Well, there could be less bullets aimed at me."

"Besides, you'd get bored after a week and beg to be taken back."

"A month. I'll take a month off. I'll come and work under you, testing your gadgets, I might even write a report on the good things."

Q sat up, looking Bond in the eyes, giving him a watery smile. "I don't want to clip your wings, James, just for my peace of mind."

"No, you need peace of mind. I won't be able to work very well with a quartermaster who's going out of his head with worry or jealousy."

"Because you're mine, Bond. I'm not a selfish person, but fuck, I'm not sharing you."

Bond laughed, running a hand through Q's hair, pressing their foreheads together. "You don't have to. It's just my body once in a while."

"But that's the best part of you."

Letting out a loud laugh, Bond pulled Q into a bone-crushing hug, pressing kisses to his neck. "Not my winning personality?"

"Hardly winning, James. Sometimes I hear the things that come out of your mouth and wonder why I'm with you… Then you bend over, and it all comes back to me."

"Your mouth needs washing out."

"You love my dirty mouth."

"Disputable."

"Irrefutable."

"Finish your report and let's go. I've missed our bed, with you curled around me like a skinny octopus."

"Conserving body heat seeing as I generate none of my own."

—

True to his word, Bond demanded a month off from field duty and made Q's office his temporary home; and Q enjoyed having Bond by his side. With nothing to do most of the time, Bond would fetch Q cups of tea, or sit with his feet up on the desk reading a book or a report. Some days Q found things for them to do. Guns needed to be shot, explosions needed to be executed, new materials needed to be tested. On one occasion Bond got to take Q for a drive in the new Aston Martin. The plan was to just drive up to Wembley and back to check the actual car part worked, to check the handling was fine and the new additions didn't make the gear stick stiff, or that the clutch wasn't going to fall through mid-drive. But Bond being who he was, detoured up to the Heath, insisting it was a nice day and their quick drive shouldn't be all the fresh air Q got.


	20. Passing the Time

**PASSING THE TIME**

_**Prompt: Q messing with 007's head during a mission, via phone sex on his Bluetooth, and making him all hot and bothered.**_  
_**Rating: Mature**_  
_**Warning(s): Sexual content**_

* * *

"Stake-outs are so dull," Q sighed down his mic, fiddling with his pen. He could hear Bond huff in response. He'd been assigned the task of being Bond's eyes and ears for the entire mission. The _**entire… mission**_.Including, and especially the boring parts. Such as when Bond is holed up in an empty apartment in downtown Odessa, waiting for his target to arrive in the building opposite. A stake-out which could potentially last up to six hours.

Needless to say, Q was bored out of his mind.

"Don't you have something to be occupying yourself with?" Bond muttered.

"No," Q moaned, propping his feet up on his desk. "I've been stripped of all responsibility within Q branch until this mission is complete. I'm not allowed to do anything that isn't helpful towards you."

"Entertaining yourself would help me alot."

Q smirked, tapping his pen against his thigh. "And what, pray tell, would I do to entertain myself, Agent Bond?"

"I don't know. What do boys your age like to do? Don't you have some video games?"

"Played them all."

"Read a book."

"There are none at hand and I can't leave the lab."

Bond let out an exasperated sigh; Q smirked. "I don't know, Q. What could you possibly do?!"

"Well, one could always masturbate."

There was a heavy pause on Bond's end, Q could barely contain his grin.

"…Excuse me?"

"But there's no tact in that at all, and it'd bore me very quickly."

Bond cleared his throat. "Excuse me, did you say masturbate?"

"Yes I did, Bond, keep up. I mean, I have the internet at my disposal, but I'm very sure my superiors would frown upon me looking up porn whilst I'm supposed to be assisting you on a mission."

"Q-"

"I suppose it's a good job I have a very vivid imagination."

"Q-"

"But then there's the problem of me getting caught with my pants down. Literally."

Q was sure he could hear Bond breathing a little heavier down the mic.

"Q, what is wrong with you?!"

Q chuckled, poking himself in the cheek with the end of his pen. "Nothing at all, Bond. You asked, did you not? I could always program my computer to alert me to anyone's presence outside the lab, so I could quickly regain my posture but then… what would I do about you? I can't very well shut off communication for a while, and whilst I don't entirely object to you listening in I don't think-"

"You want me to listen to you get yourself off?"

"I don't want to, Bond, I just wouldn't mind. I've come to realise I have slightly voyeuristic tendencies… If anything it helps you being on the line."

Bond's breathing was significantly heavier, and according to Q's computer screen, his pulse was racing too. "Q, are you seriously going to have a wank?!"

"Do you want me to?" Q practically purred, dropping his feet back down onto the floor. Bond's breath hitched.

"We're in the middle of a mission!"

"Oh like you're one to talk, Mr I'll-sleep-with-anything-at-any-time."

"Q-"

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?!"

"Do you want me to?"

Bond went silent, aside from his breathing down the mic. Q watched his heart-beat slowly increase on his monitor, waiting for his response.

"Bond?"

"Yes."

Q grinned, throwing his pen down onto the desk, tapping at his keyboard to the lock the door to the lab. "So… what are you doing now?"

Bond let out a breathy chuckle. "That's your opening line?"

"I'm merely curious. My software tells me your heart-rate is elevated, what are you doing?"

"I'm listening to you, and your filthy mouth."

"Where's your hand?"

Bond chuckled again. "On my gun."

"By gun you mean…?"

"My actual weapon, with which I shall shoot my intended target."

"Okay… Where's your other hand?"

Bond let out a quiet sigh. "Somewhere it shouldn't be."

"Very good."

"You'd better be joining me."

"Of course, there were just some security measures to put in place."

"You sound very calm. Do you do this often?"

Q smirked, silently unzipping his trousers, slipping his hand underneath the cotton of his boxers and grasping his rapidly hardening cock. "Not nearly as often as you think, though I was thinking it could become… a thing."

"I don't always have time to spare like this on missions."

"Who says it would be exclusive to you?"

Q heard Bond's breath catch in his throat, his pulse quickening on his monitor. Smirking, he began stroking himself languidly, almost able to hear Bond's inner turmoil.

"Q-"

"I was kidding, Bond, don't be getting jealous, it isn't an attractive quality… Are you touching yourself?"

"God, yeah," Bond gasped. "I haven't been this turned on in a long while."

Q grinned, slouching back in his chair. "Good, very good."

"Jesus, Q, what have you done to me?"

"Ensnared your senses and won your heart, I hope."

Bond chuckled, his voice a little deeper. "Fuck, of course… When I get back I'm going to make you regret this."

"I look forward to it," Q groaned, quickening his strokes, twisting his hand around the head, bucking up into his fist. "Will you tie me up?"

Bond let out a choked off groan, Q could hear him panting. "Sure, whatever you want."

"Would you mark me up? Send me back in to work with everyone knowing I'm yours?"

"I'll fuck you on your desk. I'll ruin you."

Q moaned, his head dropping back against his chair, fisting his cock. "God, please."

"I'll fuck that filthy mouth of yours; you'll love it."

"Of course I will. Jesus… I'm so close."

"Me too. Fuck."

Q could hear Bond grunting and panting and moaning down the line, faint sounds of his own masturbation just audible in the background. Q moaned, clumsily grabbing at the handle of his desk drawer, yanking it open and pulling out the tissues he had in there; he didn't quite plan on spending the rest of the day with semen stains on his cardigan.

"I'll fucking own you, Q; you're mine. Fuck."

"Fuck, Bond. I need to- Fuck. I need-"

"Come on Q. Let me hear you."

Q balled up some tissue, quickly covering the head of his cock as he came, letting out a low groan. He could hear Bond let out a loud groan, coupled with a litany of curse words.

"Fuck. Bond."

Bond said nothing for a while, and just panted heavily down the mic. Q ran a hand through his hair, combing out some of the curls before starting to clean himself up, dropping the ball of soiled tissue into the bin under his desk.

"You owe me a new tie," Bond finally said, his voice having a certainly gravelly tone to it. Q chuckled, putting himself away and zipping back up his trousers.

"Fine. I'll buy you a nice silk one… and then you can tie me up with it."

"Deal."


	21. Safe and Sound

**SAFE AND SOUND**

_**Prompt: Bond is just a little too used to the people he loves/cares about dying in terrible ways the minute he turns his back. He becomes ultra protective of Q and is constantly having to reassure himself that Q is alive and well and safe. When they're holding hands, Bond will lightly rest his fingers on Q's wrist to feel his pulse. When they're in bed, he stays awake for hours listening to his breathing/heartbeat just to make sure he's still there.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Bond didn't have a good track record with people he cared for staying alive. Even people he didn't particularly care for that much died on him at some point. So it was with great reluctance he finally admitted there was more to his relationship with Q than just _'agent and his quartermaster'_. It wasn't a difficult transition going from co-workers to lovers, but Bond found himself almost freaking out over the smallest things. He quickly became a health and safety inspector in Q's life, ensuring he wasn't testing equipment recklessly, that he was wearing the right gear for handling explosives and corrosive materials. He made deals with people to keep an eye on Q when he couldn't, and they'd report back to him as often as he needed. He even managed to get a GPS chip hidden on Q's person _just in case_.

Q knew, of course. He knew about Bond's history, about how everyone he ever loved died. He knew that Bond's overprotectiveness was just his way of showing his love. Once he discovered the GPS chip, he actually confronted Bond and designed him some other equipment to help him keep track of Q's whereabouts. They even sat down one evening and came up with safety measures in case Q was kidnapped, code-words, plans of action.

Q placated Bond's need to keep him safe, even entertaining the idea of wrapping himself in bubble-wrap one evening. He'd text Bond that he'd gotten home safely in the evenings, he didn't get annoyed when Bond would suddenly take his tea and have it subjected to a battery of tests to ensure it wasn't laced with anything. And the more Q allowed Bond to be overbearing, the more Bond fell in love with him.

Any other lover would have grown tired of Bond's fretting and left, but not Q. Q poked fun at him. Q would wear a hard-hat to bed and explain it was just in case he fell out of bed on his head; Bond would laugh and throw it to the other side of the room, wrapping Q in his arms. Q would take a random blood test and have the results sent to Bond; Bond would come home and find a baby-proofing kit on the kitchen table. James appreciated how understanding Q was, appreciated not being made to feel like the crazy, overbearing boyfriend he obviously was.

Q never mentioned that he knew Bond was taking his pulse when they held hands — apparently him walking and talking wasn't proof enough he was alive. He knew that Bond lay awake for hours after he'd fallen asleep just to watch him breathe, just to make sure he was still breathing. He knew Bond had memorised any and all allergies he had, he knew Bond knew all of his fears.

But Q never mentioned he also knew all of Bond's medical history, or that he had his location being fed to at least three computers, or that in the middle of the night he'd wake up and check James was still breathing too.

* * *

**Quick note: I ****am**** still taking prompts, and right now to get in the Christmas mood, I'd quite like some Christmassy ones? Any I get and write up I'll post ASAP, I hope to get them done ****_before_**** Christmas. **

**And also, thank you for liking these drabbly things! Comments and things are always appreciated! (:**


	22. Red Tie

**RED TIE**

_**Prompt: follow up to Passing the Time (chapter 20) - "I do hope it will be an apt replacement. Real silk, it shouldn't chafe too much, but we can't know for certain."**_  
_**Rating: Explicit**_  
_**Warning(s): Sexual content, light bondage**_

* * *

Bond was back. Q had been anticipating his return eagerly, hardly able to sleep, instead running errands. He was three floors up being debriefed, then he'd take quick trip down to medical for a check-up despite returning relatively unscathed — Q liked to think it was his reassuring voice in his ear that kept Bond out of trouble — and then… Then he'd come down to Q branch. To Q's office. Q was waiting for him.

Looking over to his laptop, Q saw Bond leave Mallory's office through his CCTV feed. Bond walked with his confident swagger, through the corridors, taking the stairs down to medical. Q estimated he had roughly ten minutes before Bond came to claim what was his; he had ten minutes to cut off the security feed to his office and put in place a detour for anyone needing his attention for the next hour. There was no way his attention would be focused on anything but Bond.

One more glance to his screen confirmed Bond was on his way. Even in the low quality CCTV footage Q could make out Bond's hungry look in his eyes, noticing the way his fists were clenched by his side.

Bond stormed in to Q's office, the door almost slamming against the wall. Q smirked, reaching into his top drawer.

"Double-oh-seven."

Bond stalked over to the desk, his eyes almost burning holes in to Q's skin. "Q. I hope you have something for me."

"Indeed I do," Q purred, pushing himself around to the other side of his desk, presenting a small box to the agent. Bond smirked, opening the box, pulling out a red tie.

"Nice."

"I do hope it will be an apt replacement. Real silk, it shouldn't chafe too much, but we can't know for certain."

Bond wrapped the tie around his hand, staring at it analytically, rubbing a thumb over the material. "I think this shall do nicely."

Q smiled, leaning back against the desk, putting the box down. "So… are you going to stare at that all day or are you going to put it to use?"

Bond glanced up, quirking a quick smile before lunging at Q, grabbing his face roughly and mashed their lips together. Q grunted, his hands flying up to grip onto Bond's jacket lapels, holding their bodies close. He could feel the material of the tie rub against his cheek, groaning in to Bond's mouth as he could feel his length strain against his trousers. Bond roughly manhandled Q around the desk, his fingers expertly running over his front, unzipping his cardigan, yanking his tie free and throwing it to the ground, unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric was pushed apart, revealing Q's expanse of pale skin; Bond groaned, curling a hand around his ribcage, rubbing his thumb against his nipple, making Q arch in to him.

"You're so beautiful," Bond muttered, taking Q's hands from his jacket and holding them behind his back with ease, whilst he unravelled the tie. Q let out a quiet moan, resting his forehead against Bond's shoulder as he felt the silk slip around his wrists. Bond was startlingly gentle as he thread the tie around Q's boney wrists, looping the fabric before yanking hard. Q groaned, his eyes scrunching shut at the sudden burn as the tie bit into his skin.

"One shouldn't sing one's own praise, but I'm very good at knots, Q," Bond murmured, Q whimpering as Bond's warm breath tickled his ear. "You shan't be escaping any time soon."

Q gasped when he felt Bond's teeth graze his earlobe, his fingers flexing to keep blood flowing. "Good."

"You're mine, Q."

"I'm completely yours."

"Now be a good boy and sit down." Bond gently pushed Q backwards until the back of his knees hit his chair, gingerly sitting himself down. "Do you remember what I told you? What I said I'd do to you?"

Q groaned happily, flicking his gaze up to meet Bond's. "God yes."

Bond carefully slipped Q's glasses from his face, carefully putting them on the desk behind him before gently stroking a hand over his face. Softly tracing his fingertips over Q's cheek, Q's eyes fluttering closed — there was no use keeping them open, Bond was just a blur to him now. His lips parted when he felt a finger trace over his bottom lip, Bond humming happily.

The hand suddenly left his face, Q could hear a belt unbuckle, the obvious rasp of a zip being undone. Q's breath caught in his throat, anticipating what was coming. He heard Bond let out a quiet groan, his hand finding it's place back on Q's cheek. His thumb began rubbing Q's lips, his mouth instinctively opening a little wider. Bond pushed just the tip of his thumb in to the quartermaster's mouth, smirking when he felt his tongue flick against it. He pulled gently on Q's jaw, easing his mouth open a little wider.

Q breathed steadily through his nose, waiting. He let out a quiet whimper when he felt the tip of Bond's cock rub against his bottom lip, hearing the agent's breathing get a little heavier when he flicking his tongue over the slit. Bond pulled his mouth open a little wider before pushing in, Q's lips clamping around the head.

"Jesus, Q."

Q moaned in response, suckling at licking at the head, pulling quiet grunts from the man stood over him. Bond pushed a hand through Q's hair, pushing it back from his face and cradling the back of his head. He groaned, pushing on the back of Q's head, forcing him closer, watching more and more of him slowly disappear into the younger man's mouth. He stopped when he bumped against the back of Q's throat, not wanting to force him into too much too soon. Q instantly set to work, sucking and laving his tongue against the underside of Bond's cock, swallowing around the head. Bond groaned, fisting his hand in Q's hair, trailing his other down Q's neck, thumb brushing over his pulse.

Grabbing a fistful of Q's hair, Bond began pulling him off his cock, pushing back in when just the tip was left in. Q groaned when he hit the back of his throat, Bond pulling out and pushing back in again and again. He sucked and lapped at Bond's length, letting out groans and whimpers as his mouth was used.

Bond suddenly pulled away, his hand still fisted in Q's hair. "Fuck, Q… Stand up."

With Bond's help, Q got to his feet, cracking his eyes open so he didn't get disoriented. He could barely make out Bond's figure as he was grabbed roughly, and forced up against his desk. He let out a grunt as the desk-top connected with his stomach, Bond pushing their bodies, front to back. His shirt was pushed from his shoulder, exposing the pale skin to the cool air. Bond sank his teeth into the flesh, sucking and laving at it with his tongue. Q arched back in to Bond, groaning loudly.

Bond thrust up against Q's back, in to his pliant hands, still sucking painful bruises into the skin of his neck and collar, staking his claim on the quartermaster, his fingers digging in to his hips. Q curled his fingers around Bond's cock, resting his head back on his shoulder, offering more skin for him to mark.

"Have you got anything?" Bond grunted, trailing a hand up Q's neck, tweaking his nipple. Q let out a loud gasp.

"A double-oh agent unprepared?"

Bond smirked, nipping at Q's neck sharply. "I usually get all my toys from my quartermaster."

"Middle drawer."

Bond looked down at the desk, going to reach for the drawer, before pulling back. "The one with the keypad lock?"

Q ground himself back against Bond, giving his length a gentle squeeze. "Three digit numerical code; I know your brain is lacking in blood but I'm sure you can work it out."

Bond chuckled, keying in 0-0-7, not surprised when he heard the lock click and the tiny red LED turned green. He pulled the drawer open, smirking at the strip of condoms and lube lying in the bottom.

"Planning this, were you?"

"It was a joint decision Bond, don't play coy."

Bond pulled them out, dropping them onto the desk beside Q, reaching around his front to fumble with his fly. Q let out a low moan when his erection was finally pulled free, bucking into Bond's hand.

"Are you ready for me to own you?" Bond purred, palming Q's arse, thrusting gently against it. Q let out a sharp grunt as he was jammed against the desk, his forehead dropping onto the wood.

"I do hope you're not all talk, Bond."

Bond smirked, snatching the lube from the desk, flicking the cap open. "We'll see then, won't we," he said, nibbling gently on Q's earlobe, squirting plenty of the liquid onto his fingers. Q groaned loudly, his head thunking back down on the desk when he felt Bond's fingers probe at his hole.

"Just do it," he choked, trying to push back. Bond hushed him, sucking another bruising mark to Q's back, before pushing in with one finger. Q let out a loud, gutteral groan, biting his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. Bond smirked, pushing in further, twisting, rubbing, relishing the quiet noises he pulled from the quartermaster. Q pushed back against Bond, mumbling sounds of encouragement.

"You're so good, Q," Bond muttered, pulling out and pushing back in with two fingers, covering Q's back with his own body. Q moaned, arching back into Bond's chest. Bond pinned Q down on the desk, stopping any of his movements, continuing pushing his fingers in and out, crooking them in just the right place to make Q shudder beneath him.

"Have I proved myself yet?"

Q grunted, trying to flex his arms. "Not just yet, Bond."

"Are you ready now or would you like another?"

"I'm getting a say in this?"

Bond chuckled, reaching for the strip of condoms. "You raise a good point, I do hope you're ready."

"Get on with it, Mr Bond, I'm getting bored and my arms are getting numb."

"So pushy," Bond chuckled, pulling his fingers from Q, smirking at the quiet noise he made at the loss. Whilst his body wasn't being pinned to the table, Q flexed his muscles, ensuring his blood was still flowing down to his fingers and not stopping at his wrists.

"I was promised a good fuck and I've yet to get it. I'm sure you'd be pushy too if the roles were reversed."

"The roles will never be reversed, I assure you," Bond sighed, pressing himself up against Q's back again.

"Oh yes, of course, because taking it up the arse is emasculating, and you're all man."

In lieu of replying, Bond pushed in, roughly. Q let out a loud groan, loud enough to let people outside the office know what was going on inside — if the walls weren't soundproofed. Bond paused for a moment, letting Q get used to the feel of him inside before slowly beginning to pull out, thrusting back in, quickly finding a harsh pace. Q grunted and squirmed, trying to push back as much as he could, to meet Bond on every thrust.

"Did you know you have back dimples?" Bond smirked, pushing himself up so he wasn't bent over Q. He curled a hand around his hip, digging his fingers into the skin, and held on to the bonds around Q's wrists, using that for leverage instead of his own thrusting.

"It's been brought to my attention," Q gasped, trying to grasp at Bond's wrist. "You're not the first person to do this to me… well… not this specifically."

Bond grunted, thrusting in again even harder, enjoying the low moan from the man writhing beneath him. His new position made it easier for Bond to push and pull Q how he wanted, thrusting in harder, finding the spot inside the quartermaster that would ruin him completely quicker. The room was filled with the noises of both men grunting and moaning and mumbling curse words, the sounds of their skin slapping together.

Q suddenly let out a low howl, his back arching as Bond continued thrusting inside him. "Bond please. Need to… Need…"

Bond plastered his front against Q's back, sucking more marks in to Q's shoulder. "Come on, Q…" He pried his fingers from around Q's hip, reaching around to curl them around Q's erection. Q gasped, bucking forward into Bond's hand. Bond gave Q's cock a few sharp tugs before he was howling and coming, grinding his forehead against the desk. Bond's hips stuttered as he continued thrusting, letting out a low groan as his own orgasm was pulled out of him. Q continued whimpering beneath him as Bond emptied himself into the condom, biting down on Q's shoulder.

They lay slumped over the desk, panting heavily, their sweat mingling, soaking their shirts, sticking them to their skin. Q finally cracked his eyes open, tipping his head back to look at Bond.

"I'd say nine out of ten," Q smirked wriggling against Bond. Bond growled quietly, mashing their lips together despite the awkward angle.

"Just nine?"

Q chuckled. "My hips hurt from where you jammed them in to my desk."

"Collateral damage."

Bond finally pulled back, peeling the condom off and dropping it into the bin, before sorting himself out. Q glared at him from where he was still slumped over the desk.

"Fancy lending a hand?"

Bond smirked, quickly untying the knot and slumping down in Q's chair. Despite the state of himself — rumpled clothing, come up his stomach and leaking from his softening cock — he managed to tidy himself up with an air of dignity, shooting quick smirks at Bond.

Bond had just straightened his cuffs when Q plopped himself down in his lap, running his fingers through Bond's hair. "I don't suppose you'll be ready to go again anytime soon, in your old age?"

"You're a cheeky little shit," Bond chuckled, snaking an arm around Q's waist, pulling him closer.

"No worries, I can wait. I don't suppose you perform any better in a bed?"

"Much better."

Q chuckled, cupping Bond's face in his palm, pulling him into a gentle kiss, smiling brilliantly at the agent when they pulled away. Bond smiled back, giving Q a soft squeeze.

"You look good without glasses, you look older."

Q smiled. "I'll take your preferences under advisement, so long as I get something from you."

"Anything."


	23. Home For Christmas

**HOME FOR CHRISTMAS**

_**Prompt: It's Q's and Bond's first Christmas together as a couple. Then Bond is called away for a sudden mission by M. Q resigns himself to have another lonely Christmas, feeling a little angsty think about Bond out there (maybe feeling a little jealous that he might be sleeping with a woman for a mission that night). He is about to head to bed when Bond gives him a surprise by returning home.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q was happy. Undeniably, positively, happy. And it was all James Bond's fault, with his easy smile and promises of a Christmas spent together. Their first Christmas, to be exact, and whilst by themselves, neither were big Christmas celebrators, together they couldn't be stopped. Q's flat was already decorated within an inch of its life; the tree was in the corner, two sets of lights wrapped around it, lights were in the windows, tinsel was everywhere. The flat smelt of pine and spiced apples. Even as a child, Q didn't remember feeling so full of Christmas cheer. It even spread through to his work.

The minions had put up a tree in the middle of the labs and decorated it with some of their own creations, as well as chocolate and candy canes. One of the minions had let themselves into Q's office and stuck some tinsel and fairy lights to the edge of his desk, replaced his stress ball with a singing tree. Q was too overjoyed with his office make-over to be annoyed it had been broken into.

Everyone at MI-6 appeared to be in the Christmas mood, deciding to treat themselves to a happy time after all the terrible things that had happened. Eve had decorated her office, some of the older employees took to wearing santa hats around the workplace, and M had even put a banner saying "Bah, humbug" on his office door.

Bond and Q were sat in the labs, Q working on a new prototype weapon, or _trying_to whilst Bond sucked crudely on a candy cane opposite. Q tried to stifle a giggle as Bond began humming appreciatively, kicking his foot beneath the table. Bond smirked around the candy cane.

"Problem?"

"Go flirt with someone else, I'm trying to work."

"Certainly not."

Q smiled up at Bond, snatching the candy cane from his mouth. "Find something productive to do."

Bond leered over at Q, winking before pulling himself up, wandering out of the labs, out of Q branch and up to pester Eve. He'd just perched himself on the edge of her desk, commenting on her use of decorations when M pulled open the door to his office, glaring at Bond.

"You, in my office, now."

Bond nodded, shooting a worried glance to Eve, who sent one back, before following M to his office. M walked around his desk, pulling out a file, dropping it onto the wood in front of Bond.

"New mission."

Bond frowned, picking up the file and reading it. "Dangerous?"

"Not too much. But it requires you to be out of the country over Christmas."

Bond's head shot up. "But-"

"I know. But we need one of our best agents on the job, and luckily for you, you're one of them. The quicker you get in, the quicker you'll be out, the quicker you'll get back to Q."

"Can't you get-"

"No, Bond."

"Do I even get the choice if I want to take the mission or not?!"

"No. You're to be deployed in three days. Read the file and get yourself ready. You're dismissed."

Bond huffed out a sigh, marching out of the office. He marched all the way down to Q branch, giving Q a sad smile as he tossed the file onto the table in front of him. Q frowned at it, picking it up and reading whilst Bond walked up behind him, slipping his arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," he sighed in to Q's hair, pressing a soft kiss to his hairline.

"You're being sent on a mission?!"

"I didn't even have the choice. I'm so sorry, Q. I know this meant a lot to you."

Q sighed sadly, turning around in Bond's arms. "It's fine… It is. There will be other Christmases. Other holidays… And we can always celebrate when you get back, I suppose."

Bond frowned, resting their foreheads together. "I promise you, Q, I will make this up to you."

"You can't help it, James, it's your job."

"I should have known I'd get sent out. This was all too good to be true."

Q pressed a soft kiss to Bond's lips, cupping his cheek in his palm. "Don't blame yourself, James. Seriously, we'll celebrate when you get back, it'll be fine."

Bond nodded, pulling Q in for another kiss, holding their bodies close.

—

Three days later, Bond was sent to Turkey, and Q was sat in his flat alone, staring at all the decorations blankly, all his holiday cheer gone. None of the lights were switched on, and the smell of pine made him want to leave and not come back. M had refused to let him oversee Bond's mission, forcing him to take Christmas off. Eve promised to visit on Christmas day and the two of them could sit and drink their troubles away.

On the days leading up to Christmas Day, Q got several texts from Bond, complaining about the mission, explaining how he was missed, and how M was going to pay for sending him for Turkey over Christmas.

Eve turned up on Q's doorstep on Christmas Eve, a bottle of vodka in hand and a bag of presents. Q smiled and let her in, fetching two glasses from the kitchen.

"No use both of us being alone; M sent me home early," Eve sighed, snuggling up against Q's side. Q nodded, turning down the volume on the TV.

"He really is a bit of a bastard, isn't he."

Eve giggled. "I think he's just a miserable git, and detests anyone else's happiness."

"What do you think James is doing now?"

"Shooting people; exploding buildings; seducing secrets out of women…"

Q frowned. "You think?"

"Think what?"

"He's having sex with another-"

"No, no! Sweetie, no. You know he doesn't unless it's absolutely necessary. And this mission should be pretty straight forward. He's probably drinking somewhere, missing his adorable little quartermaster."

Q sighed, lifting his arm to let Eve snuggle closer. "This was supposed to be our first Christmas. _First_Christmas. I know there will be more Christmases to come but… This would be our first. Together."

Eve smiled sadly. "I know, hon. James feels as bad about it as you do. Probably worse."

"I know… He blames himself. And I don't blame him at all, this is his job, but… Why does he have to be gone? Why can't we spend one lousy holiday together? We got so into it, and so excited! And now… it's all wasted. All this time, and effort… Just for him to be in Turkey and for me to be sat here getting drunk, telling you all my problems."

"Go for it. Tell me everything. Tell me all the stupid things James does. Does he leave his pants on the floor?"

Q let out a laugh, burrowing closer to Eve. "He does. He's messier than he should be for an ex-Navy Commander."

"Does he eat with his mouth open?"

"No… but he's more prone to eating food off my plate than his own."

Eve giggled. "I had a boyfriend like that once. We'd go out to dinner and he'd order something simple, not filling at all. And then insist I order all this crap, and then eat it from my plate. Making me look like some fat bitch in front of the waiters!"

Q laughed, pulling his arm from under Eve, draping it over her shoulders. "He's not that bad."

"Anyway drink. Come on, spill the beans. I want to know everything about Bond."

"Well… he's wonderful."

"No, the bad things please. I want to know that he uses all the hot water, and watches crappy telly…"

Q sighed wistfully. "But he doesn't… He's annoyingly perfect. I mean, he's reckless and drinks too much, but… He's wonderful… I miss him. He needs to be here."

"It'll be okay. He'll be back in a few days, you'll exchange gifts and crawl into bed and not leave for a week. Screw whatever M has to say, you two take some time for yourselves."

Q shrugged, finishing his glass of vodka and pouring another. He and Eve curled up on the sofa, watching whatever played on the TV, discussing love and men, and how M was obviously there to ruin their lives. When he got particularly down, Eve promptly found some music and pulled Q to his feet, forcing him to dance with her until they were happy and laughing again.

Once the vodka was gone, Q rooted through the kitchen to find some more alcohol, only finding some of Bond's expensive, extremely alcoholic vodka.

"We'll get pissed off one sip!" Eve laughed, pouring some into her glass.

"Good. Although if James finds out about this, I'll no longer be able to tell him off for drinking his troubles away."

"Whatever, blame me. You have good reason to get drunk."

"Perhaps after this I should go to bed."

Eve smirked, lifting the glass to her face to smell the vodka. "And what about me?"

Q shrugged, taking a sip and screwing his face at the taste. "How does he drink this?! And you can join me if you like. The sofa's uncomfortable and nothing's going to happen, I'm not going to come on to you."

"I feel like I should be offended. You're lucky you're gay or I'd be upset!"

Q smiled. "Not to mention I'm in a monogamous relationship?"

"That too. Come on then, quartermaster, take me to bed."

Giggling, they finished their drinks and stumbled through to the bedroom; Q fished out one of James' t-shirts for her to wear, quickly using the bathroom before slipping under the sheets, waiting for Eve to join him.

"Does he spoon you? I bet he spoons you," she said, crawling under the covers. Q nodded, reaching out to switch off the bedside lamp.

"He does."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

Q laughed, rolling over to face her. "No, it wouldn't feel right."

"It's the boobs, isn't it."

"Well, yes, there's that…"

"Never mind, you can hold me," she grinned, grabbing Q's arms and pulling them around her waist. "It's been a while since someone held me like this."

"Merry Christmas, Eve."

Eve pressed a quick kiss to Q's forehead before rolling over, snuggling up to him. "Merry Christmas, Q."

—

The next morning, Q was woken to an empty bed and someone stroking his forehead, pushing the hair back from his face. Letting out a quiet groan, Q slowly cracked his eyes open, expecting Eve to be crouched on the floor in front of him with a glass of water and some aspirin.

"I'm gone for a few days and I come back to find another woman in my bed?"

Q's eyes finally shot open, looking up to see Bond smiling at him, his hand still stroking through his hair. "James?!"

Bond laughed as Q pushed himself from the bed and into his arms. "I finished as quick as I could. I couldn't miss Christmas."

Q just laughed in response, knowing if he didn't he'd probably break down and cry, clinging on to Bond's shoulders as he held him against his chest. "I can't believe you're here."

"I can't believe you drank my vodka; were you really that lonely?"

"Of course I was. Damnit, James, I love you!"

Bond grinned, pushing Q away enough so he could look into his eyes. "I love you too… Come on, Eve's cooking breakfast."

"Wait…"

Q held Bond's face between his hands, mashing their lips together; Bond smirked, angling their faces for a deeper kiss, fisting his hand in Q's t-shirt.

"Isn't this lovely… Come on, boys, or breakfast will go cold."

Q and Bond pulled apart, smiling over at Eve.

"We'll join you in a minute. I need to get changed and Q needs to put some trousers on."

"Oh, I don't mind a bit of leg."

Bond laughed and shooed her away, eagerly pulling Q back into his arms, planting a wet kiss on his lips. "Once she's gone I'm going to show you just how much I missed you. And we'll have the best Christmas, ever."

Q smiled, resting his head on Bond's shoulder. "I don't doubt that for a second."


	24. On the Other Side of the World

**ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD**

_**Prompt: Bond and Q spending Christmas together? Either living the high life at some exotic casino/resort/hotel, or snuggling together under a patchwork quilt and drinking cocoa, or even just through video chat because they're on opposite sides of the world**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q smiled when he heard the Skype klaxons go off in the living room, checking his watch to ensure it was actually 2:45. He quickly stuffed the ice-cube tray back into the freezer and took his scotch on the rocks to the living room, collapsing down on the sofa, and pulling his laptop onto his knee, answering the call.

Bond flashed up on-screen, a few new scratches on his face, looking tired and worn out but with a smile on his face. "Evening."

Q smiled, reaching for his drink. "Afternoon. I see you're working the iPad just fine."

Bond chuckled. "I am; there's some nifty apps on here, you know."

"I didn't give it to you for you to download Angry Birds, James… How's the mission?"

"Let's not talk about the mission. It's Christmas, get anything good?"

Q chuckled. "Just the usual crap from my parents — socks, pens, whatnot. Eve got me a wonderful chemistry kit, for ages twelve and up."

Bond laughed. "So she went with my idea after all?"

"Yes, I thought it had your charm all over it… Just some bits and bobs from some of the minions, nothing too special."

"Did Santa not bring you what you really wanted, then?"

Q smirked. "Apparently I've been a bad boy this year."

Bond barked out a laugh, reaching off-screen, pulling back with a drink. "Indeed you have, quartermaster."

"So, I hope you're bringing yourself back in one piece."

"There might be bits of me missing, but there will be one main piece, yes."

"So long as certain bits stay attached, we shouldn't have a problem."

"And this is why you're on the naughty list," Bond laughed. Q grinned back, taking a quick sip of his drink. Neither men said anything for a few moments, instead just content to watch each other; Q safe and sound in his London flat, Bond in a hotel in the middle of a mission in Bangkok.

"So by my calculations, if you go and shoot all the bad guys, and not get killed, you'll be home for New Years."

Bond smiled. "That's the plan… You're not missing me, are you Q?"

Q scoffed. "Of course not! But my bed is a lot colder with you not in it."

"Honestly Q, if anyone's saddened by the fact I'm not in your bed, it's me."

"Well maybe you should do your job and get your arse home."

Bond chuckled. "I'm doing my best, honey."

Q sighed. "Don't call me that."

"Are you sulking because you haven't found my present yet?"

"No. I promised I wouldn't look for it, and I haven't… You know I could quite easily do a scan of the flat and find it?"

"I'm very aware of that fact… It's under the plant. The dead one, that you never water."

Q chuckled, carefully placing the laptop down on the coffee table. "Under the plant? It can't be very big then."

"You only get one big thing from me, Q."

Q laughed humourlessly, flipping off the camera as he pulled himself from the sofa. "So witty James." He could hear Bond laughing as he shifted the plant in the corner, revealing a brown envelope underneath. He could feel something hard inside and went to sit back down, knowing Bond would want to watch him open it. Sliding his finger under the flap — careful not to give himself a papercut — he slipped his hand inside, pulling out a square of glass containing a smaller square of metal.

Engraved in the metal was a thumbprint and "I love you"; etched onto the glass was: "Merry Christmas, Q. I found some pure platinum lying around and thought you'd like it. All my love, James."

Q looked up at the camera, his eyes slightly wider than usual. "Pure platinum?! Do you know how much that's worth?!"

Bond chuckled. "I'm very aware."

"Where did you even get some?!"

"I'm sworn to secrecy… And to think, you only got me this poxy iPad."

Q laughed, carefully setting his present down on the table. "I didn't _just_get you the bloody iPad, you've got to come home for your present. I've been working on it."

"Does it explode?"

"Maybe."

"You spoil me."

Q smiled, picking up his drink again. "I do… It's nearly three, do you want me to put the Queen's speech on?"

"Would you be so kind?"

"I don't understand why you want to watch it."

"Tradition, Q. And one year, she'll thank me in her speech."

"Not this year," Q chuckled. "Okay, you watch the speech, I'll go find somewhere to put my platinum." He quickly turned the TV on and turned his laptop to face it, wandering off to the bedroom. He slumped down on the bed, staring at the gift in his hands, wondering what he could have possibly done to deserve someone as wonderful as Bond. He read the inscription several times before setting it down carefully on his bedside table, wandering back into the living room, waiting for the speech to end.

Once it had, he pulled the laptop back onto his knee, propping his legs up on the coffee table. Bond sank a little further down in his seat, swirling his drink in his glass.

"Well, that was rivetting."

Bond chuckled. "It doesn't take long, Q."

"I suppose… I do miss you, James."

"I miss you too, love. I suppose we always have New Year, and next Christmas, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I very much intend to keep it… Hold on, I'm going to get in bed, I'm knackered."

Q chuckled. "It's about eight over there!"

"You don't know what I've been up to, today! I've been up since four! I'm ready to pass out."

"Fine, just angle the camera so I can see you get undressed."

Bond laughed, carefully setting the iPad on the table to give Q a decent shot of the room. "Again, answering your own question of why you're on the naughty list."

Q chuckled. "If you're not going to be home for Christmas, you can bloody well take your clothes off for me when I ask."

"So demanding," Bond smirked, begin to shuck off his jacket and undo his tie. "You have an unfair time advantage. One day I'm going to do a mission where you'll be the one getting ready for bed when we decide to have face-time."

"And until then, you'll always have that picture of me on your phone."

"Oh yes, of course. That picture has seen me through many a lonely night."

"I bet it has. No, take it off slower than that."

Bond laughed, folding his shirt over the back of a chair. "I'm not doing a fucking strip-tease for you."

"Why not?"

"Don't pout like that, it's unbecoming."

Q smirked, watching as Bond finished getting undressed before grabbing the iPad and collapsing down onto the bed, crawling under the covers. He let out a relaxed sighed, propping his head up with one hand, balancing the iPad against his leg.

"Okay, your turn."

Q chuckled. "No can do, I'm off out once you fall asleep. I promised Eve I'd keep her company."

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you!"

"Don't pout like that, James, it's unbecoming."

Bond laughed, covering his mouth as it transgressed into a yawn. "Merry Christmas, Q."

Q smiled. "Merry Christmas to you too, James."

"I might go to sleep now… I'll ring you when I wake."

"Okay… I love you."

"I love you."

They shared one last warm smile before the transmission cut. Q let out a content sigh, closing the lid of his laptop, dropping his head back against the back of the sofa. He let his eyes fall closed, thinking of ways he and Bond would celebrate once he returned. A few moments later his phone vibrated on the table. It was a text from Bond.

_**"Couldn't sleep, your picture's keeping me company."**_

Q laughed, picking himself up from the sofa and trudging through to his room to get ready for his trip to Eve's. _**"Stop masturbating and go to bed."**_

_**"I love you."**_

_**"I love you too… Go to sleep."**_


	25. Hard To Say No

**HARD TO SAY NO**

_**Prompt: Mistletoe kisses**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

As it got closer and closer to Christmas, the employees of MI-6 got more and more in the Christmas mood. A Christmas tree was erected in the foyer and elegantly decorated; individual employees decorated their workstations and offices. Q branch was not exempt. Instead of standard, shop-bought decorations, however, most of the minions fashioned their own decorations - such as a small fir tree made from scrap metal, and a santa fashioned from something Q couldn't even put his finger on.

People whispered conspiratorially about who got who for secret santa, and what they were doing on Christmas Day... Q, meanwhile, tried to keep his head down and get his work done. The only decoration in his office was a small tree one of the more timid minions had given him, and he wasn't a complete bastard, so it found a home on his desk.

He wasn't completely opposed to Christmas on a spiritual or familial level, it was just the commercialisation he hated. The time, money, and effort wasted on decorating and buying trashy presents and food, all for it to be binned by New Year. But he wasn't a complete Scrooge; he let his co-workers have their fun, he didn't dampen their spirits, he just refused to partake in their festive activities.

The only other person Q knew of who shared his disdain for the holiday season was 007, who admitted to planning on spending Christmas Day drunk in front of the TV - Q thought it sounded like an excellent plan.

Six days before Christmas, Bond returned from a mission in Bucharest. Whilst he was being debriefed, Q got a call from Moneypenny, telling him to expect a visit from the agent once he was finished being told off by M. Letting out a long sigh, Q hurried with his work, knowing when Bond arrived he'd demand all of Q's attention - and get it - and not relinquish it for a long time, sometimes hours.

Fifteen minutes later, Bond strolled into Q's office, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Q removed his glasses, rubbing the skin where they rested before slipping them back onto his nose.

"Double-oh-seven, what can I do for you today?"

Perching himself on the edge of Q's desk, Bond shrugged nonchalantly. "I thought you'd be able to help me."

"The Psychologist is on the third floor, Bond, and I'm not even sure she can help you."

Bond chuckled, pulling a flashdrive from his breast pocket. "I recovered that on the mission, figured you'd like a go."

"And my equipment?"

"Well... I've still got the radio."

Q huffed an indignant sigh, pulling himself to his feet. "You lose a gun and think a measly flashdrive is going to make it up to me?"

Bond smirked, following Q through to the labs. "I don't know yet, I haven't the faintest idea what's on it."

"If it turns out to be porn, I'm going to gut you."

"Well now you mention it, the mark did seem terribly reluctant to let go of it," Bond chuckled, leaning bodily against Q's computer desk. Q rolled his eyes, opening his laptop and began tapping at the keys. Christmas music was playing softly around them, some of the minions quietly singing along at their desks. Bond took a look around and smirked, pointedly looking at Q. Q noticed, shrugging.

"They can do what they want so long as they get their work done."

"Does it not go against any... policies? Political correctness and all that?"

"Employees of other religions don't have to participate if they don't wish. We're not forcing them."

Bond shrugged, letting out a bored sigh. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Return my guns once in a while?"

"With this?"

"Not particularly... You could get me some tea."

Bond rolled his eyes. "I'm an MI-6 secret agent, not your bloody assistant."

"You wanted to help, that's how you can help."

"Fine... How do you take it? Milk? Arsenic?"

Q smirked. "Splash of milk, no sugar, no arsenic."

Bond muttered quietly to himself, wandering over to the small kitchenette in the corner, flicking the switch of the kettle. A few moments later, Q appeared next to him, mug in hand and a smirk on his face.

"You need something to contain the tea, Bond."

"Don't you have things to be coding?"

Q placed his mug down, grabbing the box of teabags from a cupboard. "Flashdrive's being scanned, it'll take a few minutes, maximum."

Bond hummed non-committally, leaning back against the fridge, watching as Q went about brewing his tea. One of the minions was making their way over, suddenly stopping in her tracks and letting out an excited squeak. Q spun round to look at her, quirking an eyebrow.

"Are you okay, Sarah?"

'Sarah' nodded, before motioning to the ceiling with her head. Q and Bond slowly looked up, frowning at the small sprig of mistletoe that loomed over their heads. Q huffed, elbowing Bond out of the way of the fridge door so he could retrieve the milk.

"Don't even think about it, double-oh."

Bond grinned wickedly, bracketing Q against the cupboards with his strong arms, neither of them noticing Sarah had scurried away. "Christmas tradition, Q."

"Tradition which I do not take a part in."

Still grinning, Bond pressed his chest against Q's back, nuzzling the back of his neck softly. "Come on, Q. Don't be a Scrooge."

"Scrooge eventually came around to the idea of Christmas, I, shall not."

"Grinch then."

"So did the Grinch... And I don't hate Christmas, I just don't see the point." Q turned around to face Bond, an action he immediately regretted. Bond pinned Q against the cupboards with his body, their chests pressed flush together, his face hovering dangerously close. Q stared directly into Bond's icy blue eyes, almost challenging him.

"You don't understand the true meaning of Christmas, do you, Q?"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not making out with co-workers in the office."

Bond chuckled, his face getting seemingly closer. "No... that's just a perk..."

Q nodded, swallowing down a dry gulp as he felt Bond's hand curl around his waist, his body pressing up even closer. He could feel his pulse throb beneath his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when he felt Bond's warm breath tickle his face. He found his own face drawing slowly closer until their noses brushed, his eyes fluttering closed as Bond's lips captured his own. His heart almost beat out of his chest at the feeling of Bond's lips slotting perfectly against his; Bond's warm hand holding onto his waist, the fingers digging into the soft skin. He let out an involuntary whimper when Bond's tongue traced at the seam of his lips.

Smirking into the kiss, Bond pushed even further, his other arm encompassing the quartermaster's lithe body, holding him close as their lips moved languidly together. Q arms hesitantly reached up to hold on to Bond, one hand curling around the back of his neck, the other around his bicep, his fingers clutching at the strong muscle.

Bond let out a quiet groan when Q licked at the roof of his mouth, clenching his grip on the quartermaster and pushing him up against the fridge door, slotting his leg between Q's, pressing their bodies together. Q groaned in response, his nails biting into the skin of Bond's neck, breathing heavily out of his nose to get his required oxygen without having to pull away from the kiss. Bond's hand found its way underneath Q's cardigan, his fingers twining in the fabric of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, desperate to curl his hand around his warm skin.

Q was rapidly becoming lightheaded, the quickening rate of his heartbeat and the lack of oxygen made him a little weak at the knees; only Bond's strong body pressing him against the fridge was holding him up. He didn't find himself minding too much, however. It had been such a long time since he'd last been kissed, and so thoroughly, too. He was slowly beginning to understand why he was such a hit with the ladies, on and off missions - and one or two men too. He knew he had work to be doing, he knew his tea was starting to go cold, he knew the rest of the lab was probably watching and it was highly unprofessional of him to be making out with a double-oh agent in the middle of the lab, be he couldn't find it in himself to care. Christmas tradition and all that.

Eventually, one of the minions worked up the courage to interrupt, gently clearing his throat behind the couple. Bond finally pulled away, slowly turning to look at who had interrupted. The man smiled meekly, awkwardly shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Um, Q? Your scan's finished. Also... I uh, need to get something out of the fridge."

Q took a moment to process his surroundings; his messy appearance; his glasses which were sitting askew on his face; his untucked shirt; the flush that was no doubt filling his cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he straightened his glasses. Bond smirked, taking two steps back.

"Right. Thank you, Martin. Um... Yes..."

Pointedly looking at the floor, Q hurried back over to his station, slumping down in his chair, hitting his forehead on the table top several times before continuing with his work. Bond smirked at the minion, raising his eyebrows in a silent challenge. The minion just smiled and quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before scurrying off. Chuckling, Bond picked up Q's tea from the worktop and took it over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his quartermaster's head.

"I'll leave you to work. Call me when you have the results."

Q nodded, refusing to look up at the agent, curling his hand around his mug. Bond chuckled again, trailing his fingers over Q's shoulders as he made his way out of the lab.


	26. Like Car-Keys in the Bathroom

**LIKE CAR KEYS IN THE BATHROOM**

_**Prompt: First "I love yous," bonus if it's not immediately reciprocated.**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q desperately wished he had a secret place he could hide away, preferably somewhere with wi-fi. All his old secret places were no longer secret, no thanks to eternal life-ruiner: James Bond. His need for a hideout was also, not surprisingly, Bond's fault.

In retrospect, Q knew he should have just kept his mouth shut, or learnt to reign in his instinct to blurt out the first thing on his mind during awkward silences, but who seriously replied to 'I love you' with 'Oh… Thanks'?

He didn't think it could have gotten worse, but the pitying look he'd also gotten definitely made him feel like crap. He'd made a hasty excuse, explaining he had 'things to do that aren't here' and ran off, mentally kicking himself for the 'I love you' cock-up and the ridiculous excuse he'd given.

Normally, people who'd found themselves in an uncomfortable situation were left alone to curl up alone in a dark room and cry, but Q knew Bond was looking for him, actively seeking him out, so now whilst he desperately wanted to find a safe place to hide away in until the end of time, Q found himself playing an elaborate game of cat and mouse.

Bond was unrelenting in his search for Q, starting with the least obvious places his quartermaster would be, because when he didn't want to be found, finding Q was like finding the car keys, and honestly, who leaves car keys in the bathroom? He asked around everyone who knew Q, ordering them to contact him if he was seen. He went to all of Q's usual hideouts, and all of the ones Q didn't know he knew about.

Q desperately wished he wasn't afraid of flying, or that he didn't have to be back in work by four, because hiding out in rural Russia seemed like a fantastic idea, and he wouldn't have to subject himself to Starbucks' sub-par, overpriced coffee, and the company of a gang of hipster girls squawking over the latest fashion trends. He knew Bond wouldn't look for him in the Starbucks round the corner from the flat, he knew Bond knew his opinions on Starbucks, there was only one way "I would rather individually cut out every single bone from both of my feet with just a pair of tweezers than drink the cat piss they call coffee" could only be interpreted.

Eventually, however, he knew he'd have to return to HQ, and Bond would find him there and things would be terrible. He'd already asked M if he could take three weeks off to go hide in a Tibetan monastery, to which M had given him his stern "I don't have the time or patience to be dealing with your petty Bond problems, didn't I warn you not to get involved?" look. Casting a glance to his watch, Q huffed a loud sigh and slipped down from his bar stool (in a coffee shop, seriously,) and stomped out onto the street, pulling his coat around him to shield him from the biting winter air.

"So, how was your cat piss?"

Q's shoulders slumped, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath before turning around. "It was the only place I thought you wouldn't find me."

Bond smiled softly, folding his hands into his trouser pockets. "I almost didn't, I just spotted you leaving."

"Well, I have to get back to work."

"Q… You're a bit of an idiot, aren't you."

Q glared. "I'm leaving now."

Bond jumped forward, grabbing Q by his shoulders and pushing him backwards until he was against a brick wall. "Q, stop running from me."

"You run from things all the time."

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

"I told you I loved you. You thanked me!"

Bond smiled sheepishly. "You caught me off guard."

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm sure you've had enough time to come up with a witty response, though. Go ahead."

"I love you too."

Q said nothing, staring up at Bond blankly. "…Excuse me?"

"I love you too; you fucking idiot."

It took a few moments, but Q finally found his sharp tongue. "That's the worst love confession I've ever heard."

Bond grinned. "Well the one I've recently received wasn't much better. Although the elaborate game of hide-and-seek was… different. I liked it."

"Will you stop talking please, and kiss me?"

"Don't mind if I do."


	27. Get the Guy

**GET THE GUY**

_**Prompt: 3 sentence fic - Bookshop AU**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

James took a deep breath as he hid behind the shelf containing the reference books on espionage, deciding it was now or never to ask out the uni student that frequented his shop.

What happened instead was the beautiful, brilliant boy appeared round the corner, a shy smile on his face as he pushed a book into his hands, explaining "I think you may find this useful," before wandering out of the shop.

Bond looked down at the book, smirking when he saw he'd been handed a copy of "_Get the Guy_" with a post-it stuck to the top, a phone number neatly written on with only the letter 'Q' as a signature.


	28. Watermelon Shampoo

**WATERMELON SHAMPOO**

_**Prompt: How's about a 00q married fic? There is not enough of that in the world. (AN: It turned into an anniversary fic.)  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Q was just finishing up for the day, packing his technology away, securing all of his work and research behind impenetrable firewalls and passcodes and loops of code. He was just switching off his desk lamp when Peter, his next-in-command, bustled into his office.

"Q, I know you're on your way out, but could you possibly-"

"No. Certainly not. I'm officially done for the day. I'm going home. If it's urgent you can deal with it yourself, otherwise leave it on my desk with a note and I'll see to it when I get in in the morning."

Peter sighed. "But double-oh-nine's mission is tomorrow, and-"

"Are you telling me we have a lab full of scientists and engineers and technicians, and between you, you can't work it out?"

"Well…-"

"I'll see you in the morning. Ta-rah."

Without looking back, Q shouldered his bag and slipped out of his office. He'd just made it to the main doors when Tanner shouted him back.

"We have some agents doing recon on a mission in New Delhi, we need you to assist-"

"Sorry Bill, but no. Not tonight, I already have plans."

Tanner frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "What could possibly be more important?"

"I'm going out. For a meal. With another human being. Reservation's already made."

"So cancel."

"No. I'm going on my date, Queen and country be damned."

Tanner scoffed, scowling at the young quartermaster. "You'd sell your country out for a shag with some tart?"

"Certainly not. But I'm not having dinner with some tart. Evening, Bill," and Q hurried out of the doors and down the steps, quickly hailing a taxi.

The moment he got in he dumped his things on the kitchen table and jumped into the shower, scrubbing away his hard day's work, lathering his hair with his 'date shampoo'. The shampoo that smelt of watermelon and smelt so good people couldn't resist burying their face into his mop of curls.

After the shower he dressed himself in his freshly dry-cleaned suit, combed his hair down, and swapped his glasses out for his contacts. He decided against shaving, but applied his aftershave. He finally looked presentable, maybe even respectable. None of his colleagues had seem him dressed up, and they never would. It was for special occasions only. Special occasions like the evening to come.

He called another taxi and treated himself to a quick pre-outing shot of scotch whilst he waited. When he heard the horn outside his flat window, he quickly grabbed the small box from his bedside table and hurried downstairs, not wanting to be late.

He arrived at the restaurant in time, the waiter smiling politely and showing him to his already occupied table.

"A tie, how daring of you."

A pair of steely blue eyes trained themselves onto Q's face, twinned with a quirk of the lips.

"No glasses… I finally get to see that pretty face of yours."

Q grinned, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to Bond's cheek before sitting himself down. "Should I be worried you arrived on time? Not covered in blood?"

"Nope. I asked all the world's terrorists and drug and war lords to hold off on their evil-doings for one evening, on account of my wedding anniversary. They kindly agreed."

Q chuckled to himself, opening his menu onto his lap. "How lovely of them."

"Indeed. And speaking of weddings, I have your ring. I kept it safe, like I promised I would."

"Wonderful. See, I told you you could keep things safe."

"Yes, yes, you told me so. Do you want your ring back or not?"

"Of course I do. I think you'll be pleased to know I had yours fixed. Please don't break it… again."

Bond reached round the back of his neck, unclasping a chain and slipping a silver band from it, whilst Q pulled out the small box from his pocket, pushing it across the table. They swapped rings (again), slipping them onto their fingers, smiling fondly across the table at each other.

"Happy anniversary, James."

Bond reached over, slipping his fingers between Q's, squeezing gently. "Happy anniversary to you too… Now, what would you like to eat?"

* * *

Their dinner slipped by slowly and quietly, the couple discussing work and plans, and office gossip the other had missed out on. After the meal they took a long stroll through the city, enjoying the beauty of London at night, Bond draping his coat around Q's shoulders when he began shivering, pulling him under his arm. Their stroll led them back to Q's flat, the two of them snuggling up on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a cheesy sci-fi film.

Q had a smile permanently etched onto his face, his feet tangled with Bond's under the blanket, his face smushed against his chest, inhaling the enticing scent of his aftershave.

Bond was smiling too, his arm pulled tight around his husband's waist, his nose buried in his sweet-smelling hair.

Q looked up, smiling sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Bond's jaw. "I love you."

Grinning, Bond kissed the top of Q's head, resting their foreheads together. "I love you too."

* * *

AN: I am still taking prompts. So do send me one, either in a review here or in a private message.


	29. Hide and Seek

**HIDE AND SEEK**

_**Prompt: 00Q kid-fic**_  
_**Rating: Teen**_  
_**Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Bond huffed loudly, watching the chaos around him. The moment he'd gotten into headquarters and found Q had called in sick he made his way straight over to Q's flat to see what the problem. It was a lot worse than a bad case of the sniffles. Much, much worse.

Two small children, both about 3 years old, were running round and round the sofa giggling, arms flailing wildly; James wasn't sure who was chasing who. The boy suddenly noticed Bond stood in the doorway and came to an abrupt stop, the girl didn't notice and ran straight into the back of him, sending them both to the floor.

"Joseph! Why did you stop?!"

"There's a man."

The little girl looked up and saw Bond, her eyes widening. "Uncle Ben! Uncle Ben! There's a man!"

Suddenly Q appeared round the door, visibly deflating when he saw it was Bond and not someone there to kidnap or murder them. He let out a long sigh and slumped against the wall.

"Kids, go to the bathroom, wash your hands."

The children nodded dutifully and hurried off, Bond took a few steps over to Q.

"What are they?"

Q smiled, resting his hand on Bond's elbow. "Children, James. More specifically, my sister's children."

"Why are they here?"

"Because," he sighed. "She showed up at the crack of dawn and insisted I see them once in a while, and that she wanted to go sightseeing whilst in London. So… here we are. Now why are you here?"

"You called in sick."

Q smirked. "Were you worried?"

"You never call in sick, and you were fine when I left last night."

"Yeah, no man-flu, just a bad case of babysitting twins. Would you like to help?"

"Not particularly."

Q chuckled, pushing himself from the wall, keeping a grip on Bond's arm. "That wasn't a request, James. I've been up since six this morning looking after two toddlers. It's mayhem."

"I don't do children."

"It's fine. Just sit there and stare at them, put the fear of God into them, they'll behave soon enough… And once they're gone, I might need to be taken to bed…"

Bond chuckled, letting himself be pulled through to the kitchen. "Okay, I may be persuaded to stay…"

The two children were already sat at the table, the front of their matching t-shirts wet from where they'd been washing their hands in the bathroom. Q smiled, motioning to the table for Bond to sit, pulling the fridge, revealing the children's pre-prepared lunch, placing it in front of them.

"Uncle Ben?"

Q smiled at the girl, resting his hand on Bond's shoulder. "Yes?"

"Who is he?"

"This is James. He's a friend of mine."

The girl suddenly smiled brightly at Bond, showing off her baby teeth. "Hello! My name's Emma."

Bond forced a smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Joseph, he's younger than me."

"Only by a minute," Joseph huffed, prodding the edge of his plate. Bond just nodded, accepting the cup of coffee Q thrust into his hand with a small smile. The children ate quietly, already intimidated by Bond's presence and harsh glare. They both politely thanked Q when he placed drinks in front of them.

"After dinner, James is going to play with you because I've got work to do," Q smirked. Bond whipped his head around to glare at Q as the children cheered.

"What?!"

Q continued smirking, moving to clear away Emma's plate and cup. The little girl slipped down from her seat and ran around to Bond, grinning up at him.

"Can we play hide and seek?!"

"Um…"

"Of course you can. James is very good at finding, though. You'll have to hide really well."

Emma grinned proudly. "I'm the best at hide and seek! I always win!"

"Well, James is a spy, you'll have to be really, really good to fool him."

The little girl giggled and tried to climb up on Bond's knee; after a sharp elbowing from Q, Bond helped her up, positioning her so her bony knees didn't dig into any sensitive areas. He watched her analytically as she began babbling about playing hide and seek at playgroup, trying to see if he could find any Q in her. She continued bouncing and babbling, and Bond realised he hadn't heard a word she'd been saying. Q just smiled at him, scraping the remains from Joseph's plate into the bin as the little boy slipped down from his own chair.

"Can we play now?! Can we?!"

Q chuckled, standing behind Bond and resting his hands on his shoulders. "Sure. You go hide, James will count to fifty. Go!"

The children ran off in different directions, giggling loudly; Bond pulled himself to his feet, backing Q into the cupboards. Q smiled up at him innocently, trailing his hands up Bond's strong arms.

"What have you signed me up for?"

"Babysitting. You deal with the world's worst terrorists, two young children should be fine."

"Are you serious?! They're much, much worse!"

Q chuckled. "Oh yes, in case their sticky hands ruin your suit?"

Bond smirked, slipping his arms around Q's waist, pulling their bodies closer. "You're going to regret this."

"I'm sure I am."

Bond leant forwards, pushing their lips together, squeezing softly at Q's appreciative hum. Q carded his fingers through Bond's cropped hair, angling their mouths for a deeper kiss, before suddenly pushing him away.

"It's been fifty seconds."

Bond huffed an indignant sigh. "Are you serious?!"

"Yes. Go find the children. And don't find them straight away, that's not sportsmanlike, let them have fun."

"You should be doing this with me!"

"I have to tidy up, then I'll play."

"No you won't."

"No I won't. Go get 'em."

Sighing, James dragged himself through to the living room, instantly spotting the large, child-sized lump under the rug. It began shuddering as James' footsteps grew closer, he could hear Joseph try to contain his giggles.

"Well, this isn't fair at all… Are you sure they're still in the flat?!"

Q laughed from the kitchen. "They should be! They told you they were good at hiding!"

The lump snorted a quiet giggle, shuddering even more.

"The living room seems to be child-free, perhaps I should check the bathroom."

The lump giggled again as Bond began walking away. He quickly pulled off his shoes to make his movements around Q's flat quieter and padded back over to the lump. He reached under and grabbed Joseph's ankle, yanking him out from under the rug, smiling as the child burst into excited laughter.

"No! You're supposed to find Emma first!"

"Sorry, I got you first. Are you going to help me find your sister?"

He jumped up, bouncing at Bond's feet. "I know where she is! Come on!" He took ahold of Bond's hand and pulled him through to Q's bedroom. The room looked surprisingly clean considering the state he'd left it in when he'd gone home the night before.

"So?"

"She's under the bed," Joseph hissed, pointing at the bed eagerly. Bond nodded, picking the boy up under his arms and throwing him onto the bed, putting his finger over his lips, telling him to be quiet. Joseph nodded and giggled, putting his finger over his lips. Bond quietly circled the bed, getting down on his knees and looking beneath. Sure enough, Emma was lay underneath, a pillow covering her head.

"Well, I can't find your sister anywhere," Bond smirked, winking at Joseph. Joseph giggled, bouncing on the bed.

"Maybe she turned invisible!"

"Maybe!"

Emma let out a giggle, her little feet tapping on the floor. Still smirking, Bond carefully reached under the bed and grabbed Emma's waist, causing her to squeal loudly and thrash about. Joseph began laughing and bouncing on the bed as Bond pulled Emma out, letting out a quiet sigh when he noticed she was laughing and not terrified.

"I won! I told you I was good!"

"You did. Go hide again, I'll go count in the kitchen."

The games continued for a long while; the children hiding in various places around the flat, Bond kissing Q senseless for fifty seconds at a time before trundling off to find the giggling children. The longer he played, the more he got into it.

Eventually, Q had enough of the running around and put the TV on for them, smiling when the twins forced Bond down on the sofa and sat on either side of him. They sang along with the songs, and signed along with Justin — Emma forcing Bond to sign 'butterfly' with her, earning himself a quiet amused snort from Q who was sat at his desk.

Joseph fell asleep in the middle of 'Show Me Show Me', his head cushioned on Bond's thigh; Emma was much too entertained to fall asleep, calling out "show me, show me," every five minutes. She eventually fell asleep herself, slumped against Bond's side.

"Q… What do I do? He's drooling on my leg."

Q chuckled, pulling himself from his seat and wandering over. "Oh this is adorable. Hold on." He pulled his phone from his pocket, holding it up to take a picture. Bond scowled at him.

"Will you stop faffing and move the bloody kids?"

"Shh, don't wake them."

Q carefully extracted Joseph from Bond's leg, letting Bond lower Emma down onto the seat, pillowing her head on a cushion, before Q put the boy back down, grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa and covering them.

"Was kids tv always that educational?"

Q chuckled, leading Bond away from the sleeping children. "No, I remember it being terrifying."

Bond smiled, sitting himself down at the kitchen table, whilst Q set about making him a drink. "They're… not too bad."

"What, the kids?"

"Yeah."

"I knew you'd love them… Do you… want any?"

Bond looked over, a look of horror on his face. "Children? God no!"

"Good, me neither."

Bond chuckled, pulling Q to stand between his thighs. "I could handle babysitting once in a while, so long as they're sent back to their owner at night."

"And so long as they're house trained."

"Yes. And they must be able to form a coherent sentence."

Q smiled, sitting himself down on Bond's lap. "You're quite the softy, aren't you."

Bond smirked. "Shut up.**"**

* * *

**AN: If any of you readers follow my Tumblr you'll know that I've made it my mission for the foreseeable future to crack out as many prompts as possible. I currently have 23 unwritten, waiting to be written, and several half-finished. If you've submitted a prompt I have got it; I'm not ignoring you, I'll try my best to get around to it.**

**Also, yes I am still taking prompts, it may take me a while, or if I take to it it may get done right away. But do keep sending prompts if you have any.**

**And finally: to people wishing to translate any of my fics into any language, you may do so. I have explained this on my profile but I know quite a few people don't look at it, so I'll repeat it here. You don't need to ask my permission to do so, I'm happy for my fics to be translated. All I do ask, if that you tell me you're doing so, that you include my username and/or profile with the translation, and that you link me when you're done. Other than that, go for it! (:**


	30. Interruptions

**INTERRUPTIONS**

_**Prompt: Q and Bond are having a very busy week, and can't seem to get any time to themselves. The two are frustrated by their inability to have any… Alone time**_  
_**Rating: Explicit**_  
_**Warning(s): Sexual content**_

* * *

It was shaping up to be a horrendously busy week at MI-6; available field agents were rushing about, training, being briefed, assisting Q branch testing equipment, and any other odd job M wanted them to do. Q branch was in its own state of panic. There were nearly twice as many people in the labs, fiddling with weapons and dangerous substances, it was a health and safety nightmare; Q had pulled one of the minions from their duty to solely fill out 'accident in the workplace' paperwork; he had much more important things to be doing.

Having been in since five am and not having anything for breakfast other than a cup of tea, Q decided to treat himself to a lunch break. He left the minions to their work and hid himself in his office, sending a text to Bond to appease him with food. A few moments later Bond burst into the office, carrying a tray of food. He set it in front of Q, smirking.

"You should make more of a conscious effort to eat. There's not much to you as there is."

Q shrugged, pushing the food on the plate around with his fork. "No time for eating, I've got things to be doing."

Bond grabbed a chair and dragged it over to Q's side, collapsing down into it. Q smiled, shifting his legs round to rest them across Bond's lap.

"So how's your work going?"

"Highly dull. I'd rather just be on the mission instead of pretending."

"All in good time. But if you get so much as a scratch on you after all of this training, and I'm going to kill you."

Bond chuckled, resting his hand on Q's thigh, rubbing it softly with his thumb. Q smiled, picking at his food like a fussy toddler; Bond loved watching Q, he was a fascinating subject, a beautiful contradiction of swan-like grace and undignified clumsiness. He could glide through a maze of desks and people and various obstacles like he was made for it, and then trip over his feet, or try to push a pull door. He looked young, barely out of school, with wide innocent eyes, but spoke like a wizened old man who'd seen it all. He'd say intelligent things, showing off how smart he was, using words with more syllables than necessary, and then misspell 'intelligence' ten times in one document. Bond loved it all.

Q suddenly dropped his fork to the plate with a loud clatter; Bond looked up just in time to find himself with a lap full of Quartermaster. "I miss you."

Bond grinned, circling his arms around Q's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. "I know, it's been Hell living in the bunks, no genius' to keep me awake with the glare from a laptop."

"How much longer until you can come home?"

"Haven't the slightest."

Q sighed, nuzzling Bond's neck, pressing several kisses up his throat. "I miss waking you up with a blow job."

Bond chuckled. "No one misses that more than me."

"I give good head."

"The best."

Q continued littering Bond's neck and collar with kisses, his fingers playing over the covered skin of his waist, trying to tug away the shirt. Bond could feel his trousers tighten, his cock eager to be let out.

"Would it be unprofessional of me?" Q gasped, his fingers trailing down to Bond's fly, fiddling to unbuckle his belt. "To suck you off right here?"

Bond's hips gave a twitch as his zip was pulled down. "Sexual harassment, I think it is."

Q wriggled down to kneel between Bond's legs, prying down his trousers and boxers just enough. "You wouldn't file a complaint, would you?"

"Depends how good you are."

Q grinned, circling his fingers around the base of Bond's cock, squeezing softly; Bond let out a quiet groan, his hips bucking at the contact. "You know if it were physically possible I'd suck your brain out."

Bond chuckled, carding his fingers through his lover's hair, slipping his glasses from his face. "There's a lot of talking considering your mouth's supposed to be quite busy."

Q let out a quiet snort and wasted no time covering Bond's cock with his mouth, swallowing around the head. Bond's head fell back, groaning, twisting his fingers in Q's curls.

When they'd first started seeing each other, Bond had worried about his rampant libido scaring the younger man away, but Q had proved to be a voracious lover; he'd only leave his computer for a cup of tea or to crawl into Bond's lap. Q was able to tell exactly what Bond wanted, and how he wanted it; he'd never had a more satisfying lover than Q.

He cracked open his eyes and looked down, Q was fixing him with a hungry stare. Groaning, he fisted Q's hair and began thrusting into his mouth; Q let out a groan of his own, his eyes fluttering closed.

A knock on the door made both men freeze; Bond looked to the door as Q's second in command poked his head round.

"Um… Q?"

Bond glanced down to where Q was knelt between his legs, their activities blocked from view by the large wooden desk, looking back to the man at the door. "Nope." He bit his lip to stifle the noise of surprise he let out when Q resumed, flattening his tongue against Bond's cock. "Can I… Uh, can I pass on a message?"

The minion looked down at the floor. "Could you tell him that Agent Stewart managed to activate one of the detonators. We have an hour until it goes off but… I thought he should know."

Q sighed, dropping his forehead to Bond's thigh. "Goddamnit."

The minion's head snapped up, his cheeks reddening. "Uh… sir?"

"I'll be there in a minute!"

"Right. Of course. Sorry, for… I'll just go. Sorry."

The door clicked shut behind him; Q looked up at Bond, his cheeks flushed. Bond forced a smile, tucking himself back into his trousers.

"Right."

Q groaned, pulling himself to his feet, rubbing his knees. "I'd better go save us all from being blown up."

—

The couple tried again two days later; Bond jumped out at Q as he was making his way down a corridor, grabbing his wrist and dragging him behind him as he made his way to a supply closet. Q chuckled, letting Bond pin him against the door and attach his mouth. They both fumbled to get each others flies undone, pressing their bodies together when they'd managed it. Q hummed into Bond's mouth when he felt the warmth of Bond's cock against his own, the agent's fingers curling around them both.

"It's getting unbearable," Bond grumbled. "I have no privacy, I can't even have a quick wank."

Q smirked, ducking his head to bite and suck at the underside of Bond's jaw. Bond groaned, his head dropping onto Q's shoulder as he continued pumping his hand. Q tried to thrust into his hand, whimpering into Bond's neck.

"God… I need you."

They continued rutting and panting and mumbling until there was a knock on the door.

"Bond!" It was Tanner. "The cleaner told me to tell you she's not cleaning up whatever mess you two make. Also, must I remind you having sex on government property is prohibited?"

Bond groaned. "Go. Away."

Tanner laughed. "Absolutely not. You have two minutes to sort yourselves out and go back to work before you're both suspended."

Q and Bond sighed, putting themselves away and straightening their rumpled clothing. They stepped out of the closet, Q blushing and looking at his feet, Bond glaring at Tanner.

"Happy now?"

Tanner sniggered. "Quite. Please keep it in your pants, Bond. You can have all the sex you want when you go home."

"And when exactly will that be?"

"I can't say."

"It had better be soon or I shan't be held accountable for my actions."

"Whatever. Come on, back to work, both of you."

Q gave Bond's hand a gentle squeeze and quickly scurried off to Q branch.

—

The next attempt almost went well. Bond was summoned down to Q branch having been told he was needed to test some equipment. Q was lounging behind his desk, twirling something around his finger, grinning when Bond barged into his office. He stopped twirling whatever it was and threw it to Bond; a set of car keys.

"We've just finished outfitting the new Bond-mobile. It needs taking for as spin."

Bond nodded, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket. "I don't suppose you need to accompany me, do you?"

Q jumped to his feet. "Of course I do. I need to know firsthand how it performs."

"Well, what are we waiting for?"

They both hurried out of the office and down to the garage; Q lead the way over to the new Aston Martin, grinning as he motioned towards it.

"Do you like?"

"I like very much… The car's pretty good too."

Q laughed, yanking the door open once Bond had unlocked it. "I'm not sure why I'm laughing, that was awful."

"You love me."

"Perhaps. Just get in the car and let's go before people realise we're gone."

Bond laughed, diving into the car, waiting until Q was strapped in before speeding out of the garage. They drove for ten minutes, getting as far from headquarters as they could, keeping an eye open for an empty road to pull over on. Q had quickly abandoned the notion of safety and was leant over the gearbox, seat belt unbuckled, his head in Bond's lap.

"You're making it hard to drive."

"It's not the only thing I make hard."

Bond chuckled, carding his fingers through Q's hair. "You're not much better than me with the jokes."

"Just hurry up and pull over. We're against the clock here."

Bond eventually found somewhere to pull over and did so, pushing Q's head from his crotch and shimmied into the backseat. Q followed, straddling Bond's thighs, slinging his arms up around the agent's neck.

"You're going to fuck me, you're going to fuck me good, and nothing is going to distract us. Okay?"

Bond grinned, making quick work of Q's clothing, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. "That's fine by me. I don't suppose you brought anything?"

Q scoffed, reaching under the passenger seat, pulling out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. "Of course."

They shed as much of their clothing as necessary, their mouths mashing together almost violently. The windows had fogged up, shielding their activities from the outside world. Bond flicked open the cap of the lube, squirting a generous amount onto his fingers, pressing them against his entrance. Q whimpered, dropping his forehead onto Bond's shoulder.

"Just do it."

Bond pressed in, reveling in how Q's body welcomed him, how Q let out a shuddering sigh, his fingers twisting in Bond's shirt, hanging off his shoulders. His hips canted upwards, his cock brushing against Bond's bare chest. Bond prepared Q as efficiently and quickly as possible before grabbing the condoms, tearing one open and rolling it onto his cock.

Q let out a quiet whine as Bond gripped him by the waist, his thumbs digging into his hip bones as he was positioned and pushed down onto Bond's cock, the agent burying his head into Q's neck, groaning. Q gasped when Bond was fully sheathed, digging his nails into his shoulders, his nails biting into the skin. Bond looked up at Q, smirking, and pulled him into a messy kiss, teeth clashing and tongues almost battling.

"Damnit, move," Bond grunted once he'd pulled away, helping Q lift up on his haunches before dropping back down. The car was filled with the noises of the two men panting and moaning and grunting, their lips smacking and skin slapping together.

Bond's phone began ringing down in the footwell beside them; Q huffed but didn't stop, keeping Bond's hands glued to his waist. Bond just smirked, swiftly kicking his jacket on top of the phone to muffle the sound of it.

A few moments later Bond's phone had stopped, but then Q's phone started ringing. Q paused, taking in a pinched breath, his eyes meeting Bond's.

"Fucking damnit."

Bond smirked, twitching his hips upwards enough to make his lover groan, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Answer it. Please. Tell them to fucking sod off."

Q's phone was lying on the seat next to them, the screen lighting up with a picture of Moneypenny. Bond smirked, putting the phone to his ear.

"Q's phone, he's a little busy right now."

Eve huffed. "I know, don't think I don't know what you're doing. You need to come back to headquarters."

Q resumed rocking up and down, Bond bit his lip to stop himself making any noise.

"We'll be back eventually, just give us-"

"No, James! M needs you two back!"

"No! For once this month I'm going to have an orgasm not induced by my own hand!"

Q let out a quiet moan, digging his nails harder into Bond's shoulders. Bond responded in turn with a grunt, the phone almost slipping out of his hand, until Eve's voice shocked him back into the real world.

"Oh my God, will you stop shagging whilst I'm trying to talk to you?!"

"Will you stop talking to me whilst I'm trying to shag?"

"You're disgusting."

"That's great, can you-… can you call me back? I need to-…"

Bond quickly disconnected the call and grabbed Q's hips roughly, slamming their bodies together until they came, panting harshly against each others necks. Bond pressed a litter of kisses across Q's collar, nipping gently at the skin, rubbing his hips with his thumbs where he was sure there'd be bruises. Q muttered sweet nothings into Bond's hair until the shrill noise of his phone ringing again interrupted. Sighing, Q reached over and answered, letting himself fall limp into Bond's arms.

"Bond?!"

"This is Q, as this is his phone," Q sighed.

"Right. By the sound of your voice I'm guessing you two are finished?"

"Have you ever not had sex for a long time, and then when you finally have it it's just so… mind blowing?"

Eve coughed awkwardly. "That's lovely, Q. Get back to headquarters."

"I'll need to put some clothes on first."


	31. Discoveries in Q-Branch

**DISCOVERIES IN Q-BRANCH**

_**Prompt: **__The minions finding out Q and Bond are married._  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None

* * *

Q-Branch definitely weren't stupid; vastly intelligent, actually. They all had a degree of some kind at least, some of the more seasoned employees had several of them were, however, nerds and geeks of varying degrees. Their job didn't require much human interaction, and that was how they liked it.

They were quirky and shy, some were definitely one superhero away from becoming a mad scientist. Lieutenant William Timothy Conygham (the third) was his own kind of bonkers — he liked to boast that if he didn't have his job, he'd probably be down the park shouting at ducks.

But none of them were stupid. Crazy? Maybe. Shy? Definitely. Afraid of human interaction? Most likely.

They didn't have degrees in human behaviour, or psychology, or knowing when your young genius boss was shagging one of the most dangerous men in Britain, but they weren't blind, either. Bond never did things 'just because', and a lot fo Q-Branch employees had known him a long time. Almost no one was impervious to the agent's charms.

People's' suspicions were aroused when Bond started spending more and more time in Q-Branch, in Q's presence. At first it was harmless flirting, the usual lines and tricks Bond employed to everyone. Not long after, Q started flirting back, and Bond upped the ante. He started whisking Q away from his work, bringing him gifts from his missions.

It didn't take a Q-Branch genius to realise they were dating. Several times a minion had walked into Q's office to find the pair jerking apart, cheeks flushed and clothes rumpled. They never 'outed' themselves, however; they remained professional. They were never affectionate towards one another in public, only ever behind closed doors. Q didn't get jealous when Bond had to sleep with someone on a mission, and Bond didn't smother Q whenever someone tried to talk to him.

Everything changed one day. Q didn't come into work, neither did Bond, and then they stopped being seen together. Bond only went to Q-Branch to get his equipment or for a talk. Q started leaving work earlier than usual.

The Q-Branch employees had suspected a break-up, which was a shame. Bond had become their mascot, and was always eager to test their latest equipment. Q had been happy, enough to let minor mistakes slide.

"Q's not exactly miserable, though," one minion said, watching Q's movements about his station. He had a smile on his face and was quite happily soldering a circuit board. Another minion shrugged.

"He comes in sometimes looking well-shagged. Maybe he's got someone else?"

"That quickly? One day he and Bond are all horny teenagers, the next day he's got someone else?"

"Who knows!"

Another minion wandered over, joining the conversation. "Why not ask him?"

"Just walk up and ask: 'Hey boss, are you and Double-Oh-Seven still shagging?'. I don't think so!"

"You could always ask a little more professionally. Ask if Bond's okay or something!"

The first minion grinned. "That's a great idea!" He slipped from his seat and walked over to Q's bench, clearing his throat politely. Q smiled up at him.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering sir, is Agent Bond okay? It's just we haven't seen him in quite a while."

Q's smile didn't falter. "He's quite all right. M told him to stop lingering down here and gave him jobs to do instead."

"Oh… Would he not be able to come test our equipment?"

"I'm sure you could ask."

"Couldn't you? Or… don't you see him any more?"

"I see him plenty."

The minion nodded, not wanting to push any further and retreated back to his desk, shrugging at his co-workers.

A couple of weeks later Bond was on a mission and Q was overseeing. He'd selected several minions to assist, the screens of the lab lit up, feeding Bond's location and CCTV footage following his general whereabouts.

Bond got shot in the leg and was hiding, potentially moments away from his death.

"Back-up is on its way, Double-Oh. Don't do anything reckless," Q huffed, his fingers flying over his keyboard. Bond chuckled.

"You know me, Q, I'd never-"

"Don't you dare, James! You've still got to come home and clean the mess you left in the bathroom!"

Several minions stopped what they were doing, looking to Q. Bond laughed again.

"You didn't clean it up?"

"No I didn't bloody clean it up! I left it for you! So you can get your arse home and clean it yourself!"

"Not really persuading me to come home."

"I'm too young to be a widower, James!"

"Do you remember how I proposed?"

Q chuckled, still tapping at the keys. "You kidnapped me and took me to France."

"They'd just legalised same-sex marriage, it made sense."

"I don't know why I cared, it's not like I expected you to be romantic. Dragging me to France, and down the aisle."

"France is full of romance."

"And French people!"

Bond laughed. "I love you, Alex."

"I love you too, James. Now get your arse home. Back-up should have just arrived."

"Confirmed. I'll see you later."

"Don't do anything stupid."

Communication cut out; Q sighed and slumped back in his seat, pulling his headset off and dropping it onto his desk. A minion cleared their throat nervously.

"Sir?"

"You're all dismissed. Find something to do."

The minions began filing out of the room slowly. One stopped at Q's side, gently touching his arm.

"Congratulations on your nuptials, sir."

Q smiled weakly. "Thank you. Though if he keeps pulling crap like this I sense a divorce on the horizon."

"Surely he can't have messed the bathroom that bad."

Q barked out a laugh, rubbing his forehead. "Yes, well…"

The minion smiled and left, met with a small crowd of fellow employees.

"Well?"

The minion shrugged. "They're happily married. That's all."

The other minions sighed and got back to work.


	32. Trigger Discipline

**TRIGGER DISCIPLINE**

_**Prompt: In which Q is unexpectly kinky.  
Rating: Explicit  
Warning(s): Sexual content, gunplay  
AN: I apologise if I have some of the terminology wrong, I'm no expert in firearms.**_

* * *

Q had been surprised when he'd found out how vanilla Bond really was. He was James Bond, the Casanova of MI-6; he'd been everywhere and done everything. Or so the tales said. But that was all they were. Stories.

One evening, after what could only be described as as damn good shag, Bond had told Q about the rumours surrounding him, and explained which ones were just rumours. Q had expected more, he'd thought Bond would have an even remotely kinky side to him. But no.

Q was disappointed.

He'd been excited when his and Bond's relationship had started, he'd thought Bond would be someone able to keep up with him sexually.

He was determined to not let Bond's vanilla approach to sex hold them back.

* * *

Q knew what he wanted, and he was resolute in getting it. He'd experimented before with previous lovers, but none of them were prepared to go to the lengths Q wanted. He knew, or at least hoped, Bond would be game. Bond had a high level of self control, Q knew he could trust Bond with his life. He intended to.

Q was waiting, lounging on the bed when Bond arrived home, passing a model 10 Smith and Wesson between his hands. Bond stopped abruptly in the doorway of the bedroom when he saw his lover; sprawled over the pillows, bare footed in just his trousers and white shirt, the top few buttons undone. Bond wanted to dive onto the bed and have his way with him, but he was confused by the revolver.

Q glanced up, eyeing Bond over the top of his glasses. "Evening, James."

"Q… Are you okay?"

Q smirked. "I'm fine. Are you going to linger in the doorway all night?"

Bond chuckled, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the armchair in the corner of the room. Q watched eagerly as Bond pulled off his tie, shoes, and socks, before crawling onto the bed over Q's legs. He stopped when Q pointed the gun at him, slowly cocking back the hammer.

"Q…?"

"Don't worry, it's not loaded. Perfectly safe."

"Did your daddy not teach you it's rude to point guns at people?"

Q laughed, aiming the gun at the ceiling and pulling the trigger, the hammer clicking back into place. He unclipped the cylinder and reached over to the bedside table for the box of bullets Bond hadn't noticed, pulling out five.

"Q. What are you doing?"

Q shrugged, slipping the bullets into the chambers, purposely leaving one empty. Bond shuffled closer to Q, slipping the gun from his hands.

"Did I agree to some kind of suicide pact?"

"No… This is… something I want from you."

Bond frowned, clipping the cylinder back into place. "You want me to shoot you?"

"Not quite." He reached forward, grabbing the front of Bond's shirt and dragged him into a heated kiss, Bond responding immediately, dropping the gun onto the bed beside them. Q hummed happily, flopping backwards, pulling Bond with him. Hands began pulling at clothing, Q's shirt was ripped open, several buttons flinging to the far side of the room. He moaned, arching up as Bond's rough hands stroked over his chest and sides, nails just biting into the skin.

Q hurried to get Bond out of the rest of his clothes, allowing himself to be roughly yanked from his own clothing until they were rutting together, mouths pressed together as they panted heavily. Bond pulled away and reached over to the bedside table, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing at the contents, quickly grabbing a couple of pillows, placing them under Q's hips.

He didn't spend long working Q open, knowing his lover preferred things a little rough, but made sure to pay special attention to the certain bundle of nerves until Q was a quivering wreck. He reached for the condom, quickly tearing the packet open and rolled it on. He went to position himself over Q when he was stopped with a gentle hand on the chest. Q peered at him innocently, sitting up slightly.

"I love you."

Bond narrowed his eyes. "I love you too."

"I trust you, y'know. With my life."

"Okay? … Does this have to do with the revolver?"

"I want you to. I trust you."

Bond frowned, plucking the gun from where it had tangled in the sheets. "You… want me to hold it to your head?"

"Please."

"Finger on the trigger?"

"Hammer cocked back."

"But what if I-"

"You won't… it's an exercise in self restraint, James. I know you're capable of not blowing my valuable brains across the pillows."

"This is a very heavy thing to spring on a man, Q."

Q smirked, lying back down over the pillows. "I'm sure you can deal with it. Please."

Bond nodded reluctantly and put the revolve down on the pillow beside Q's head as he crawled on top of his lover, positioning himself at his entrance. "I had no idea you were so kinky," he grunted, slowly pushing in. Q moaned loudly, his back arching.

"You… have no idea how kinky I can really be… just you wait."

Bond chuckled, pressing a litter of kisses across Q's temple and forehead. "Are you ready then?"

Q nodded, reaching up to blindly grab at the gun, finally getting his fingers in the correct position, pressing the barrel against a pillow, cocking back the hammer and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, the empty chamber rotated away, putting a bullet in front of the hammer. Q pressed the gun into Bond's hand, positioning it under his throat, aiming it up to his skull.

Bond took a deep breath, curling his finger around trigger, cocking back the hammer with his thumb. He raised his eyebrows at Q, silently questioning if he was ready. Q's eyes fluttered closed as he nodded, baring his throat submissively.

Q let out a low groan when Bond began to move inside him, his free hand pushing his leg up until his knee was pressed against his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, tingles thrumming through his nerves when he registered the cold press of the barrel of the gun pressed against his throat. He tried to remember to breath, but he was too worked up.

Bond thrust into him roughly, knowing his grip on Q's thigh would probably bruise, concentrating on not getting too lost in the moment in case he squeezed the trigger. Q made criminal noises beneath him, his hands clutching at Bond's arms, his blunt nails scraping down, leaving faint red tracks on his tanned skin. His hand flew to the hand Bond was holding the revolver with, squeezing his wrist.

"James. Please."

Bond pressed the gun harder against Q's throat, relishing the moan that rumbled from his lover. He leant down, catching Q's lips with his, groaning into his mouth. He sped up his thrusts even more, knowing he was close, eager to finish at the same time as Q.

Q began reaching for him, threading his fingers through his hair, pulling at the cropped hair as much as he could. Bond groaned loudly, feeling his finger tighten around the trigger. He quickly jerked away, aiming the gun away from Q as he came, his finger squeezing, firing a bullet into the wall. He felt, rather than heard, Q come, the smaller man convulsing beneath him, digging his nails into Bond's biceps.

Bond opened his eyes when realised they were shut, pushing himself up on his elbows, looking down at Q. Q's eyes cracked open, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. Bond chuckled, looking to the gun hanging from his loose fingers; he shook it from his fingers and rolled to Q's side, gathering him in his arms.

"Fuck, Q. That was…"

"Exhilarating? Fantastic?"

"Yes. To all… I don't think the neighbours would be too pleased if we continued this… endeavour."

Q shrugged, snuggling up to Bond, burying his face in his neck. "Fuck 'em… But don't worry, I have many more kinks that need exploring."

Bond smirked, pressing as chaste kiss to Q's forehead. "Do they involve guns?"

"Not all of them."


	33. Jupiter

**JUPITER**

_**Prompt: Bookstore AU, first date  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

James had a date. It was happening. He'd gone home and dialed the number of the brilliant boy he'd had an eye on, and now they were going on a date. It was only for coffee, but if things went well, James would have the beautiful boy in his bed. He'd invited Eve over to help him pick out what to wear; he apparently had a bad habit of overdressing. She'd picked out his good jeans — the ones that made his arse seem like it should be a national treasure, a very tight t-shirt, and a jacket, giving him the advice of spilling coffee on his jacket so he'd have to take it off.

He arrived at the café on time, ordering his drink and sat at a table giving him a good view of the door. 'Q' arrived only a few minutes later, smiling at James as he went up to the counter. He slid into the seat opposite with what looked like a very fancy coffee, slipping his coat from his shoulders onto the back of the chair.

"You're looking well, James."

James smiled. "I am. How're you?"

"I'm grand."

"Do I get a name, or do I have to call you 'Q' all afternoon?"

Q smirked, taking a quick sip of his coffee. "We'll see. If today goes well, I'll give you my name."

"Enjoy being mysterious, do you?"

"Very much."

They chuckled, neither man wanting to break eye-contact first. James finally cleared his throat, picking a topic of conversation.

The two barely had a moment of silence; Q explained what he was studying and James told stories of life at a bookshop. Partway into his story about one of his more unsavory customers, James felt Q tangle their feet under the table. He paused, quirking an eyebrow at his date. Q just smirked.

"You were saying?"

James chuckled and continued his anecdote about "Psycho Silva" — as named by Eve — and the time he tried to convince James he was ex-MI-6. Q responded with a story about one of his teachers having a nervous breakdown when he'd corrected him on his lesson about hacking, in front of the entire class.

"The last I heard he was arrested for smashing jars of jam in Morrisons."

James laughed, curling his fingers around his mug. "What did you do to the poor man?!"

"It's fine, he was a dick anyway. He tried to fail me simply because I was smarter than him."

They grinned at each other, legs brushing together.

Conversation continued, reaching the subject of strange women who'd hit on James.

"Pussy Galore?! Seriously?"

James chuckled. "Yes."

"That's not even remotely subtle!"

"The best thing is, I think that's actually her real name."

Q almost spit his drink across the table, trying his best to swallow and then laugh. "You're kidding, right? Who in their right mind would call their daughter that?!"

"Especially cruel ones."

"And my sister thinks she's got a shit name! I'll have to tell her about this!"

"What's your sister called?"

Q grinned. "Rainbow."

James stared at Q incredulously. "Rainbow?"

"Rainbow."

"Were they high?!"

"Yes. They're hippies."

James laughed. "Really?"

"Yes. They find my 'living in the 21st century' to be rebellious. How dare I not find my dinner in bins and wear shoes!"

"Wow."

"They're modern hippies, they live in a house instead of a tent, but…"

"Wait, is that why you go by 'Q'? Do you have an embarrassing name too?"

"Thankfully, no. I'm named after a family friend who died just before I was born. But my middle name is weird, and it's what my parents call me."

James smirked, leaning closer. "What is it?"

Q leant closer too. "Jupiter."

"What?"

"My middle name, is Jupiter."

James' grin grew. "After the planet or the God?"

"Planet, obviously."

"Did you look like it when you were born?"

Q laughed, punching James' arm. "Piss off! I was adorable; swaddled in my hemp blanket… They still have it, and it's still covered in amniotic fluid. My parents are disgusting!"

"Wow. All my mum did was keep my hospital bracelet."

Q thumbed to himself. "Home birth. Hippy."

"This is fantastic, seriously."

"No, it's embarrassing. You're never meeting my parents."

"Are they not invited to the wedding?"

"Certainly not! Do you know what a hippy wedding includes?"

"Unless they're anything like the gypsy weddings I've seen on TV, I doubt they could be that bad."

Q chuckled. "Okay, you've got a point."

James smiled, nudging Q's foot. Q smiled back, quickly draining the last of his coffee.

The date eventually came to an end, the two men slowly walking up the street, Q's arm linked through James', a possessive hand on his bicep. James stopped them at a bench, leaning against the back of the seat, pulling Q to stand in front of him. Q grinned, reaching out to curl his hands around James' waist.

"So. Do I get a name?"

Q smirked, chewing on his bottom lip. "Well… I can either give you my name now…"

"Or?"

"Or… you can wait fifteen minutes while we hurry back to yours, and I'll tell you just before I get on my knees…"

James' eyes lit up. "It went that well?"

"So well I'm forgoing another two dates and offering to suck your dick, yes."

"I only live ten minutes away."

Q grinned. "Let's get a move on, then."


	34. Shopping

**SHOPPING**

_**Prompt: Bond and Q go shopping  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Bond let out a groan, slumping over the handle of the trolley, careful of how he distributed his weight so it didn't tip over. Q had insisted he join him with the shopping, because he needed someone big and strong to carry the bags home. Bond stared blankly at the selections of spaghetti hoops whilst Q tapped at his phone, checking the list he'd compiled.

Smirking, Bond picked up the tin with little sausages in too and dropped it into the trolley. Not even looking up from his phone, Q sighed and reached in, picking up and tin and put it back on the shelf.

"I do think we've progressed past spaghetti hoops, James."

"They had little sausages in."

"I'm sure your diet doesn't allow for tinned meals."

"How would you know?"

"If you're going to be childish, might I suggest the Thomas the Tank shaped spaghetti?"

Bond just grinned, grabbing the tin and dropped it into the trolley. "Perfect."

Q tried his best not to grin at his boyfriend's childish antics, not wanting to encourage him. "That had better not sit in the cupboard until it goes off."

"I'll have it for tea tonight. With some toast."

"Shall we see if Um Bongo's on offer? Complete your foray into childhood?"

"Go for it. Get some Monster Munch, too."

Q finally broke and laughed, hitting Bond's arm playfully. "Seriously, James."

Bond smirked. "Can we hurry up then?"

"Fine, come along."

Nodding, Bond followed behind Q, steering the trolley through the aisles of other shoppers, mindlessly watching Q pluck things from the shelves, placing them carefully in the trolley, making sure the heavier products were on the bottom.

"I don't understand why you don't just shop online. It seems like the sort of thing you'd prefer," Bond sighed, watching Q decide between orange juice with bits or without.

"If it wasn't so shit, I would. They mess up everything. Order a pint of milk and get six instead, in a bottle that won't fit in the fridge. If they don't have something they replace it with something random. I ordered cornflakes once, instead of giving me another cereal, they gave me pasta shells. It's just less hassle doing your shopping yourself. Not to mention the way they pack the shopping is atrocious; who in their right mind packs tomatoes with a selection of tins? There was pulp all over my kitchen floor."

Bond chuckled, snatching the bitless carton of orange juice and put it in with the rest of the shopping. He was eager to get home and relax, and they hadn't even covered half of the shop. Q rolled his eyes and walked on, torn between dragging the shopping out just to watch James suffer, and hurrying up so he wouldn't have to deal with his lover's complaining.

"Do you know how horribly domestic this is?" Bond asked, still slouched over the trolley.

"I'm vaguely aware, yes," Q replied, holding on the end of the trolley so James couldn't drive it into him.

"I should be off in exotic locations doing dangerous missions… If you flew you'd be there by my side."

"Oh no, normal people things, how will you cope with the mundanity?"

"Exactly."

"What will people think when they find out you wash your clothes and don't just buy new ones after wearing them?"

James scowled. "You can stop mocking me now."

"No thanks. I think I'll make a twitter account, and tweet every first world problem you moan about."

"What?"

"Ran out of authentic Colombian coffee, now I'll have to send someone to get me some more. Hashtag-life-is-cruel."

James stared at Q, thoroughly unamused. Q grinned.

"Hotel lied about the thread-count of their Egyptian cotton sheets. Next thing I'll be told the champagne isn't complimentary. Hashtag-five-star-my-arse."

"Q."

"Oh come on! That last one was one hundred and forty characters exactly!"

"Are you done?"

"Maybe?"

"Can we get the shopping and go?"

Q huffed indignantly, leading the way to the next aisle, irritated his comic genius went unappreciated by James. They both wandered up and down the aisles, not saying anything to each other that wasn't to do with what they were buying. James wordlessly slipped two bottles of vodka into the trolley, giving Q a challenging look when he quirked an eyebrow. Shrugging, Q wandered off, leaving Bond to follow at his own pace. He'd just rounded the corner Q had gone down when he was stopped abruptly at the sight of his lover carrying six boxes of Twinings in his arms. Q just grinned and dropped them into the trolley, Bond looking at him like he'd lost the plot.

"Are they on offer, or…?"

"Nope. Just in case."

"Of what?!"

Q shrugged. "Zombie apocalypse? Tea shortage? Queen's visit?"

"You're just doing this to annoy me, aren't you."

"Perhaps."

"Are we done? Can we go?"

"We've got to pay first, but yes."

Bond let out a sigh, making a start towards the tills. "I'm never shopping with you again. You can just deal with tomato pulp over your floor from now on."


	35. Office Parties Are Good For Gossip

**OFFICE PARTIES ARE GOOD FOR GOSSIP**

_**Prompt: **__Bond and Q have secretly been dating for a while; they let the cat out of the bag at a posh party._  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None

* * *

Bond grasped the stem of his glass, smiling at the bartender and turned to survey the crowd. He usually hated staff parties, hated schmoozing with higher ups and putting on a polite front. He usually tried to avoid these parties, tried to make sure he was out of the country on the day, but M knew how much he hated them and planned his schedule specially.

He hated M.

He leant back against the bar, watching the few people he could call friends mill around, talking with other employees and drinking. Eve looked nice in her sleek champagne dress, laughing with a couple of other assistants from her floor. Bill was sat at a table with someone from HR, the two of them leaning close as if they were making a shady deal.

He took another glance around the ballroom, looking for someone else. It took a few moments but he finally spotted Q sat in a corner with a glass of wine, some of the Q-Branch minions sat around him. Bond smiled; he'd been the one to pick out Q's outfit, a nice tidy grey suit and red tie, his hair actually styled smartly. He was proud of his work. Q had asked why he bothered with all the effort if they weren't going to be seen together; Bond had just smiled and said he'd like something pretty to look at.

Q glanced up and smiled when he caught Bond's eye, hiding the smile behind his glass. Bond smirked back, contemplating going over and ruining their secret. Seven months of seeing his quartermaster without anyone finding out, it would have been stupid to ruin it just because Q looked beautiful. There was no reason for the secrecy, other than they just didn't want people interfering. Bond knew people would try to persuade Q to end the relationship, and was afraid of Q agreeing with them and leaving. He knew he shouldn't depend on Q, but all of his self-worth was wrapped up in his genius lover. He didn't want to be alone again.

He turned back towards the bar, downing his drink and signalling for another one; more fool M for having a free bar and forcing Bond to be there. The bartender shook him another martini and poured it into a clean glass, dropping in an olive. Bond forced another smile and pulled the glass closer. He stared into his drink, trying to clear his mind when someone brushed against him and slumped against the bar.

"Same again, please."

Bond grinned, slowly glancing to the side, meeting Q's eyes and cautious smile. "Planning on getting pissed?"

"Forced pleasantries between co workers for an entire evening and I can't hide in a dark corner and make-out with my partner all night? Yes, I am."

"Making out in a dark corner? You're sure you're out of school?"

Q laughed, taking his wine as it was passed to him. "You know I'm a legal adult. I just… prefer the finer things in life."

"I can't say I disagree; it certainly sounds like a preferable way to spend an evening."

"It must be better than sulking at the bar and not talking to anyone."

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"No one?"

Bond smiled, turning so he was facing Q. "Well, I can't very well talk to you. And what would I say to you? We were together just two hours ago."

"I'm sure you could find something to talk about."

"Like how delectable your arse is in those trousers?"

"Maybe something a little more suited to our company. You can sing m arse's praise when we get home."

"I can't wait."

Eve suddenly appeared at Bond's side, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. "What are we talking about?"

Bond grinned, moving to include her better in the conversation. "how nice Q's arse looks in those trousers."

Eve grinned too. "It is nice. You look amazing, Q. I know several ladies who'd like to go home with you tonight."

Q blushed. "Well, I'm flattered."

"Would you like me to introduce you to any of them."

"No thank you."

"Really?" Eve huffed. "Fine. Bond, you've been sulking here all night. Come and dance with me."

"Eve-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Come on."

Eve grabbed Bond's arm and began dragging him to the dance floor where several other couples were already twirling around. Bond assumed the position, a hand on Eve's waist and their other hands clasped together and began leading. Eve smiled sweetly at Bond, saying nothing for a while until she moved closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Admit it: you fancy Q."

Bond didn't twitch, keeping the dance moving. "Excuse me?"

"I've noticed. You're always flirting with him, smiling, watching him when you think no one's looking. And commenting on his arse? Obvious."

"So that means I like him?"

"You do, don't you?"

"He's a lovely boy, intelligent… It's not often I meet someone I can spar with verbally-"

"Bond, don't avoid the question."

Bond let out a quiet sigh. "Say I did… fancy Q, what would you do with the information?"

"I'm hardly going to run and tell him, I'll keep it a secret. I could try and set you up, if you like, though I'm not even sure if he's gay."

"Should you really be interfering in people's personal lives like this?"

"Seriously, James, do you like him?"

"Eve-"

"Has he already turned you down? Is that why you're so reluctant to answer?"

"What?"

Eve sighed. "Sorry. I just thought you'd have made a lovely couple… I can't believe he'd turn you down though… Unless he's not gay, which would explain-"

"Please, Eve, just shut up."

"Sorry."

Bond sighed and shut his eyes, trusting his movements and Eve to not let them bump into anyone. He tried to picture Q in his mind, that it was his thin waist he was holding. He knew Q could dance, they'd danced many times in their kitchen after a few drinks, their bodies pressed close together. Ever was too small and curvy, and smelt too fruity for Bond to be able to properly picture him.

The song ended; Eve pulled away, have Bond a sad smile and moved over to her group of friends. Bond took a deep breath and went back to the bar, his drink still waiting for him. He quickly knocked it back and ordered another, scanning the crowd. Q was on the dance floor, dancing with one of the ladies form the archives. She seemed much too happy to be dancing with Q, her head resting on his shoulder, trying to crowd as close to him as possible. The dress she was wearing was a tad revealing, and he could tell by the way Q's nose was twitching she was wearing too much perfume.

He desperately wanted to stalk over and sweep Q into a passionate kiss in front of everyone. Stake his claim on the young man. But he couldn't. He shouldn't.

He turned towards the bar so he wouldn't have to watch. He knew Q would never betray him, but he didn't like the sight of someone else touching what was his. He wondered if this was how Q felt when he slept with people on the job; he'd drastically cut down on sleeping with women on missions, only doing it when strictly necessary, but it couldn't be fun for Q to know it was happening anyway. He knew he was lucky Q was very understanding and patient; nothing like Bond. Bond was possessive and jealous, extremely territorial; Q was his.

He glanced back to the dance floor just in time to see the woman lean up and whisper in Q's ear, a hand slipping down to grope him. He huffed angrily and marched over, plastering a fake smile on his face. They pulled apart when he cleared his throat, Q smiling sheepishly.

"You don't mind if I cut in, do you?"

The woman grinned, moving to let Bond take her waist, her face falling when he took Q's instead, leading him away. Q chuckled, lacing his fingers with Bond's resting his other hand on his shoulder.

"You smell like her," Bond hissed. Q smiled.

"Yes, she was wearing a lot of perfume… Thank you for rescuing me."

"I'll always rescue my princess."

Q laughed, hooking his arm around Bond's neck, pulling their bodies closer. "Are you my knight in shining armour?"

"You know I am."

"Well aren't I lucky."

They moved in time to the music, eyes locked, and not a care in the world as to who was watching. All of Bond's previous frustrations were gone; there was something about being in such close proximity to Q that made him forget everything that wasn't the man in his arms.

"Eve thinks I fancy you," Bond said. Q grinned.

"Oh really? Do you?"

Bond grinned too. "Maybe… It's a secret."

"That's not fair."

"She thinks… I'm secretly in love with you, and I'm pining because you turned me down."

" Really? Does anyone turn you down?"

"It's been known to happen."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not that charming."

Q just snorted, letting himself be lead in a slow dance. He ducked his head slightly, resting his temple against Bond's. Bond let his eyelids flutter closed, a content smile on his face.

"You know, people are looking at us," Q hummed. "Some are even pointing."

"Let them. Most will just be shocked to see two men dancing."

"Are we still really in the dark ages?"

"I'm afraid so, my love."

"I assume you're wanting to give our audience a show?"

Bond grinned. "You do know me."

"Seven months, and this is how we're going to out ourselves?"

"What better way than in front of everyone we work with?"

Q chuckled, pulling away slightly. "I'd be happy just sending around a memo… But I suppose this appeals to the performer in you."

"Very much so. You don't have a problem, do you?"

"I suppose not. It'd be nice to show everyone I've managed to steal the heart of the James Bond… I wonder how many women will cry."

"You make me out to be some kind of… stud."

"But you are!"

Bond chuckled, letting go of Q's hand and snaked his arms around his waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Q draped both his arms around Bond's neck, playing with the short hairs at the back of his head.

"So, Mr Bond… Do you fancy me?"

"My dear Q, I fancy the arse off you."

"You're obsessed with my arse."

"Only slightly."

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"Don't mind if I do."

They both smirked against each other's lips, Bond quickly nipping at Q's bottom lip.

"Stop grinning and kiss me," Bond muttered, raising his hand to angle Q's head into a better position. Q hummed happily, gingerly licking against his lover's teeth. Bond fisted a handful of Q's hair, pulling just the right amount to make Q groan in the sinful way that he did. They could vaguely hear people gasping and muttering around them, too concerned with the feel of the other's tongue against their own to care what people were saying.

They eventually pulled apart, resolutely not looking at the people around them, gazing happily into each others' eyes. Bond stroked across Q's cheekbone with his thumb, resting their foreheads together.

"Once more in case people missed?"

Q laughed, slapping Bond's shoulder playfully. "I doubt anyone'll be talking about anything else for a long while."

"Good. So long as they're now aware you're not some eligible bachelor."

"Yes, I'm well and truly smitten."

"Come on, I need a drink."

Q smiled, dropping his arm to clutch around Bond's waist and let himself be led over to the bar, ignoring all the looks their co workers were giving them.


	36. The Healing Process

**THE HEALING PROCESS**

_**Prompt: Bond has a difficult mission, Q comforts him.  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Bond couldn't entirely pinpoint the moment he and Q came together; couldn't quite remember the moment he found comfort in his Quartermaster's arms.

He was sure it was after the not-entirely-successful mission where the target had shot dead three young girls in exchange for information. It wasn't uncommon for Bond to find himself strapped to a chair whilst someone tried to extort information from him; however, it was usually at the expense of a woman he'd slept with whilst on mission, not three young innocent girls. He could usually handle being made to look in the eyes of the victim the moment before they were killed, he'd been trained for it; it was for Queen and country.

But the girls couldn't have been older than six, not yet sullied by the misery of life, still innocent and full of optimism.

He could still see the terrified look in their eyes as they trembled in front of him, the barrel of a gun pressed to their temple, the target calmly telling Bond to reveal secrets or she'd die. He could still see the life leave their once bright eyes as the trigger was pulled.

Three of ten girls had been executed in front of him before back-up arrived; seven girls left haunted by the ordeal, their lives changed forever.

Bond could still see the haunted expressions of the girls when he shut his eyes. He couldn't sleep, the whole experience replaying in his dreams. He drank; knocking back whiskeys on the flight home, only sleeping when his body succumbed to exhaustion. He was hungover during his debrief, dictating his report in an interview room.

He vaguely remembered stumbling down to Q branch, knowing Q had a bottle of whiskey and two glasses stashed in his office for when they got together for late-night talks, Q supposed to be working, Bond supposed to be writing a report. They'd drink and discuss life, pretending for a while the world wasn't as dark and horrible as they knew it was.

He grabbed the bottle and a glass, sat himself at Q's desk, pouring a glass and knocking it back, his throat now used to the burn before pouring another. He sat with his head in his hand, staring at the amber liquid, not noticing the door slide open. He looked up when he felt long slender fingers wrap around his wrist, Q tugging him to his feet.

"I'm so sorry," Q sighed, enveloping Bond in a warm hug. Bond responded immediately, gripping onto Q tight enough to hurt, burying his face in his neck, letting out a long shakey breath. Q rubbed soothing circles into Bond's back, resting his cheek against the side of his head.

He moved them over to the sofa in the corner, letting Bond curl up to his side, stroking his fingers through the agent's cropped hair. Neither man said a word, Q keeping a protective hold over Bond until he fell asleep on his lap.

Bond didn't remember how he got to Q's flat, or what happened when they got there, only that he woke up undressed in a warm bed, an even warmer body curled around his own.

He rolled over, a sleepy Q was watching him. He quirked a sad smile, cupping Bond's cheek in his palm, softly rubbing his thumb against his skin. Bond let out a quiet sigh, burrowing into Q's arms, feeling safe, protected.

They eventually migrated from the bed to the kitchen, Q arranging breakfast for the two of them. Bond frowned when a bottle of whiskey was snatched from him.

"You're under my care for the foreseeable future, Bond. I can't morally let you drink yourself to death."

Bond sighed, looking up at Q with tired eyes. "You're not letting me drink?"

"You're not drinking yourself to death. Maximum allowance for men is 4 units, that's your allowance."

"4 shots of whiskey a day? It won't help."

Q sighed, dropping down into the seat beside Bond, taking his hands in his own. "It's not supposed to help, James. I'm not letting you drink your problems away."

"Q-"

"Please, James. Let me help."

Bond nodded reluctantly, letting Q crawl onto his lap and curl his arms around him. Bond let out a long, slow breath, hiding his face in Q's chest, snaking his arms around his skinny waist and holding him close.

Bond stayed enclosed in Q's flat for days, never leaving. He slept through most of the day; curled up in bed with Q's body pressed against his back; on the sofa with his head pillowed on Q's lap whilst he worked on his laptop; lying on the sofa with Q curled around him whilst some boring show played on the tv. He found comfort in Q's company, he found acceptance in his body, the way it would mold around him, the way it would instinctively lean in to his touch, the warmth it always radiated.

Q monitored Bond's alcohol intake, pouring his drinks and keeping the bottles locked in a safe of his own manufacturing. He tried to cook three healthy meals a day, but there was no guarantee Bond would eat.

He knew their relationship was changing as Bond took what he needed from Q, whether it was just his presence beside him whilst Bond read a book, or a string of lazy kisses in bed. They never progressed past heavy petting; Q knew Bond wasn't healed enough to deal with a relationship, but he needed the affection, someone to give himself over to. They both did.

Two weeks since Bond's return, he was called back in to headquarters for assessment. Q went with him, only leaving his side when Bond had his one-on-one with the psychologist, deciding to report down to his branch to see how things were going without him. He was surprised to see M waiting him.

"How's he been?"

Q sighed, sitting down by his desk. "Not good, obviously."

M nodded, humming his agreement. "It doesn't take an idiot to realise his PTSD has finally kicked in."

"He's getting better. At life. He's gone from a steady four units a day to three; he's eating and sleeping regularly, he's just… not the same. It's haunting him still."

"How do you think he'd take being relieved from field duty?"

"Permanently?"

"Yes."

"Not well. He'll fight, he'll argue. He'll lie, he'll pass your tests because he knows what's required of him. He'll work himself to death, become a burnt out version of the man he once was… He'll bounce back, sir. I think he's hit bottom, he needs to work his way back up. It'll take time and effort, he still needs monitoring, he may need medication but… he'll do it, sir. He's strong."

M smiled meekly, steepling his fingers underneath his chin. "You have a lot of faith in him."

"I can't afford not to. Besides, he's earnt it."

"Very well. I'll release him back into your custody. You'll be required to file a weekly report, and only on your recommendation will we consider him back for active duty."

Q nodded. "That's fine."

"This is quite the burden you're undertaking. You know he's not your responsibility…"

"I know, sir, I don't mind. Bond doesn't have many people who care for him."

"Don't get in over your head, Quartermaster; Bond doesn't… do well with love."

Q frowned, chewing his lip awkwardly. "I don't-"

"Please, Q. I know the look of someone in love."

"Yes sir," Q sighed; he knew there was no use arguing, his poker face was atrocious. M forced a smile and pulled himself up, clapping Q on the shoulder and left. Q slipped his glasses from his nose, running a hand over his face. After taking a few moments to compose himself, Q logged onto his computer, checking the progress of some of the high priority projects and nipped into the labs to speak to the minions. He wasn't aware of how long he'd taken until he got a text from James asking where he was. He barked a few orders at his assistants and rushed out, hurrying up several flights of stairs to the psychologists' offices. Bond was sat in one of the armchairs outside, body rigid, his hands on his knees. Q knelt in front of him, smiling softly and took his hands.

"Ready to go?"

James nodded, letting Q pull him up. "Can I have a drink?"

"When we get home."

They walked through the corridors leaning into each other, Q trying to ignore the sad looks employees gave them. They hopped into a taxi and hurried home, Q bustling Bond through the front door, sitting him at the kitchen table.

"What do you want for dinner?" Q asked, peering in the fridge. Bond shrugged, slouching back in his seat.

"Nothing with avocado."

Q chuckled, pulling out cuts of ham and lettuce. "I've already apologised for that, James. Maybe next time you'll tell me when you don't like a certain food."

"I thought it was a fact that avocado is disgusting."

"Don't harp on about it, the avocado was destroyed, you don't have to taste it again."

"Good. You're supposed to be looking after me, Q."

"Trying my best, I've never dealt with a toddler in an adult's body before."

James cracked a smile, reaching out to curl his fingers around Q's wrist, pulling him closer. Q smiled, cupping Bond's cheek with his free hand. Bond let out a content sigh, snaking his arms around Q's waist, burying his face in his stomach; Q ran his fingers through Bond's hair, holding him close, thinking about what M had said.

Bond pulled away, peering up at Q; his eyes were tired but Q could see life was coming back to them, a huge improvement on the blank, empty stares he'd gotten when Bond had first returned. He leant down, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead and returned to making their dinner, pouring James a glass of scotch, putting it on the table in front of him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Bond pulled the glass closer to him, but didn't knock it back instantly.

"After you've eaten, I'll run you a bath, and you can shave off that horrible stubble."

"My stubble is fine."

"It's scratchy."

"You shave it, then."

Q looked to Bond, thrilled to see the playful challenging smirk he was giving him, just like he used to. He smirked back, placing his dinner on the table. "I might."

Whilst James ate, Q went to the bathroom to run a bath, setting out James' razor and soap. He'd had to bathe James several times when he'd first come to stay, not trusting the agent to not accidentally drown himself, and now, even though capable to do it himself, James insisted Q join him in the bathroom, letting Q massage shampoo into his scalp. They both enjoyed the time spent together, passing a cigarette back and forth, Bond letting the water relax him whilst Q sat next to the bath on his laptop.

Once the bath was full, Q went to fetch James and his laptop. "Tell me if the water's too hot," Q muttered, dragging an extension lead through the door whilst James was stood in the middle of the bathroom, unbuckling his belt. "I'm not trying to boil you. Don't be too self-hating to add some cold in."

"It'll be fine, Q. You've never drawn me a too-hot bath."

"Yes, well, first time for everything."

Bond silently lowered himself into the water, Q sitting himself down on the closed toilet lid, booting up his laptop. James let out a quiet sigh, eyes closed as he rest his head back; Q watched fondly, M's earlier words echoing around his head.

"Light me a cig, will you, darling?"

Q laughed, reaching across to the sink to grab the packet of cigarettes. "Darling? That's new."

"I can't very well call you 'Q' all the time."

"You can." Q lit a cigarette, taking a quick puff himself before slipping it between James' fingers. "Or you could actually ask what my name is."

Bond cracked an eye open, smirking at Q. "I can't, it goes against protocol. I'll just stick with pet names."

"Very well… Did the doctor say anything enlightening?"

"Nope." James blew the smoke out of his mouth slowly, his eyelids sliding shut. "Same old drivel. Something about you saving my life, potential problems of me becoming dependent on you, suggested I look into a less stressful career."

Q nodded, plucking the cigarette from James' fingers. "I don't see you becoming dependent on me as a problem, I think it's about time you let someone in, even if it's just to make sure you eat three meals a day and get a steady four hours."

"I'm sure the general requirement is eight hours."

"Not if you're James Bond. You either sleep six intermittently or nineteen where I'm actually afraid you've slipped into a coma. Four is a good start."

James chuckled. "I'm glad it's you looking after me… not that I'd trust anyone else."

"Yes, imagine what life with Mallory would be like."

"The bastard would probably make me eat avocado."

Q couldn't help but laugh, reaching out to brush his fingers through Bond's hair. "I've missed this."

"Missed what? You watch me bathe all the time."

"This. Talking to you. Laughing with you. The old you."

Bond smiled sadly, motioning for Q to pass the cigarette back. "I feel myself getting better. Some days I don't want to get out of bed, or I just want to drink… then I think about how disappointed you'd be if I gave up, and… it actually motivates me."

"That's… that's good."

"Anyway," James cleared his throat. "This stubble of mine."

Q nodded, understanding Bond didn't want to "talk" anymore. He pressed play on Bond's favourite blues album and placed his laptop down away from the bath, grabbing the soap and razor, sitting on the edge of the bath. He was always careful shaving Bond, never once cutting him or leaving a small patch of hair.

After shaving, Q dove straight into washing Bond's hair, secretly loving the way Bond's eyes would close as he worked the shampoo into his scalp, letting out quiet, pleased breaths. He almost fell into the bath when he felt a warm, wet hand curl around his thigh, making him jump. He laughed nervously, pressing his sudsy finger into James' ear as punishment.

"I'm sorry, my dear, did I scare you?" James laughed, wiping away the soap.

"I almost fell in!"

"You should join me, the water's nice and warm."

"Maybe another day… when you're not overcoming a serious amount of post-traumatic stress."

Bond slipped beneath the water, running his fingers through his hair to rinse away the shampoo, before popping back up. "Promise?"

Q grinned, wiping away some of the water from James' face. "I promise."

James smiled, reaching up to cup Q's cheek, pulling him down into a soft kiss. "More incentive for me to heal, I suppose."

"If you want to see it that way, yes."

* * *

Q was taking a few moments to himself to get some work done whilst Bond slept beside him when there was a knock on his door. He frowned, pausing to see if he'd just been hearing things; the only visitor Q ever had was currently in his bed. There was another knock on the door, a little louder, followed by, "Q, it's Eve!"

He quickly pulled on his pyjama bottoms and went to answer the door; Eve looked quite flustered. "Is everything okay?"

"M needs you at headquarters. He's sent me to look after Bond whilst you're there."

"Can't James come with-"

"Afraid not."

Q nodded, letting Eve in and rushed back to the bedroom, getting dressed. Back in the living room, Eve was nosing around, looking at all of his things; Q remembered it was the first time she'd been in his flat. She forced a smile at Q, slipping her hands into her coat pockets.

"So, is there anything I need to know?"

Q frowned. "God, you have no idea…" He found a spare piece of paper and grabbed a pen, beckoning Eve over to the table as he began scribbling a list. "He's asleep now but he should be awake within the hour; there's a chance he'll freak out when he finds out I'm gone, please do your best to tell him I'll be back soon, don't panic him. Never leave him by himself, except to use the bathroom of course. He should be very compliant, he usually sits on the sofa all day — sit next to him, he likes human contact. He might want to fall asleep on your lap, let him."

Eve nodded, eyes wide as she watched Q scribble everything down.

"Make him lunch at half twelve, something healthy, there's plenty in the fridge. He may not eat it but ask him to try if he doesn't. If he doesn't, leave it. Same again with dinner at five if I'm not back. He's on four units of alcohol a day. Just four. He prefers scotch, so that's four shots, only. If he asks for anything else, google it or text me, and don't let him try to talk you into any more than four. He's allowed snacks, don't have the TV on too loud, be careful of what he watches — nothing too violent or anything. He'll most likely just read and nap all day. He had a good day, yesterday, so he shouldn't be too fussy, but if there's any problem at all, ring me."

"Wow, you do this every day?"

Q forced a smile, checking he had everything important written down. "It's fine once you get into a routine. James needs routine, please stick to it."

"No, sure, it's fine… I didn't think he'd be so willing to let someone look after him."

"Only me… which might be a problem. He'll probably be wary of you, just… reassure him. If you can't find common ground, say something about M being a bastard, he should ease up."

Eve laughed, pulling Q to his feet. "Got it. Now go, they need you desperately, got themselves into a right tizz."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Q checked everything was in order and he had what he needed before rushing down to the waiting car, hoping desperately that Bond wasn't due for another bad day.

He was finally able to stumble home ten hours later, exhausted from cleaning up the gigantic mess Q-Branch had gotten itself into in his absence. He quietly shut the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and dropped his bag and coat at his feet. The flat was silent, putting him on edge as he padded through to the living room. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Eve sat on the sofa reading, a cushion on her lap, Bond fast asleep across her. She smiled up at him, putting the book down.

"All sorted?"

"Barely. How's he been?"

Eve's smile fell. "I don't know, really… Fine, I guess."

"Fine, you guess?"

"Well, he ate his food, only had three scotches, but he's been very distant. This is the first time all day he's come close to me. It's like… I could see he wanted to get close to me, wanted contact with another body but… I wasn't you. So he's been in the armchair most of the day."

Q nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Okay… But other than that, good? He didn't fight you on anything?"

Eve shook her head, gently easing herself from under Bond's head, setting the cushion down so he wouldn't wake. "No, like you said, very compliant. We had a short chat about what's going on at work over dinner, he occasionally mumbled things to himself, but y'know… It's quite heartbreaking to see him like this."

"It is. You should have seen him before." Q went over to the sofa, kneeling in front of James, softly running his fingers through his hair. James stirred, shifting into Q's touch. Eve stood back, arms folded across her chest as she watched fondly. Bond's eyes cracked open, he peered up at Q.

"Q?"

Q smiled, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "Yes, I'm back."

James managed a smile, winding his arm around Q's waist, pulling him closer. "Leaving me for ten hours isn't looking after me."

"I'm sorry, it was unavoidable. Be thankful Eve was sent to replace me."

"I suppose."

Q pressed a kiss to the top of James' head, brushing his fingers through his hair. "Your hair's getting a bit long, should we do something about it?"

James huffed into Q's chest, his fingers tightening in his clothes. "No, leave it. I'll be fine so long as it doesn't get longer than yours."

Laughing, Q pressed another kiss to his head. "Very well. Go back to sleep, James, I'm not going anywhere."

Bond rolled over to face the back of the sofa; Q grabbed a blanket draped over the back and threw it over James before turning back to Eve. He narrowed his eyes at her smile.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… sweet."

"What is?"

Eve just chuckled, leading the way through to the kitchen; Q cast a quick glance back at James before following.

"What's sweet?"

"How in love you two are," Eve sighed, helping herself to a glass of water.

"What do you mean, us two?"

"What do you mean?"

Q sighed, slumping against the fridge. "It's quite obvious… how I feel about him. I mean, you don't go to all this effort for someone you simply like as a friend… But James doesn't-"

"Yes he does. It may take him a while to actually realise he loves you, but, he does. Quite deeply. Even before… this, he had a thing for you. Trust me. He told me. He didn't know how to go about romancing you, but he wanted to. So if anything good comes from this whole issue, it'll be you two."

The corners of Q's lips quirked upwards, he hid his mouth behind his hand, hoping Eve wouldn't notice. "I suppose I hope so."

Eve grinned. "You're arse over tit for him… Go on, go to him, I'll let myself out."

Q chuckled, pushing himself up from his seat and wandered through to the living room. He poked and prodded at James until he woke enough to allow Q to lie on the sofa with him, the two men curling in on each other, legs tangled and arms wrapped tightly around the other. James huffed out a content sigh, pressing a chaste kiss to Q's neck.

"Love you."

Q's breath caught in his throat; he looked down at the man in his arms. "What was that?"

James said nothing, moaning quietly as he fell back asleep. Q smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I love you too."


	37. Coffee At Two

**COFFEE AT TWO**

_**Prompt: Bondlock  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

John knew he recognised the man at the counter of the coffee shop, he just couldn't place him. He frowned, watching the man flash the barrista a flirty smile before taking his coffee. He tried to use Sherlock's methods; wide, confidant stance, cropped military haircut, stiff but graceful movements, obviously someone from the army, but John had met plenty of people from the forces. The man did a quick sweep of the shop, eyes lingering on John; a smirk began to form on his lips. It suddenly twigged in John. He grinned back.

"Captain Watson!" the man said, settling into the seat opposite John.

"Commander Bond, small world."

"It is indeed. Back in England for long?"

"Honourable discharge. G.S.W., I'm useless now."

Bond's eyes widened. "Wow. So what are you doing now?"

"Part time at a surgery, and running across London after my genius boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?! You? Since when do you bat for the other team?"

John chuckled into his coffee. "Oh I don't. It's just the one."

Bond smiled. "I understand. My partner was much too captivating, I'm not sure I had a choice."

"You too?"

"You'd understand if you met him."

"Same with mine… I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Bond laughed. "Certainly. Shall we meet tomorrow?"

"Here? Two o'clock?"

"Perfect. Anyway, I should be on my way. It was good bumping into you, John."

John got to his feet as Bond did, reaching across the table to shake his hand. "You too, James. See you tomorrow."

— —

Sherlock knew within ten seconds of John arriving home. "Bumped into an old friend? Someone from the military? Army-"

"Navy. We had a mission together. He's a good guy."

"Dull."

"We're going for coffee tomorrow."

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Don't care."

"No, we. Me and you. He wants to meet you."

"Why?!"

John shrugged, collapsing down in his armchair. "Because. He's bringing his partner."

"John, you know the tedium of social niceties rots my brain."

"Stop being dramatic."

Sherlock huffed, rolling to face the back of the sofa.

— —

Bond didn't so much as request Q's presence at coffee the next day as he did order it. Q just looked at his lover incredulously before nodding.

"Very well. Old friend?"

"Met in the forces, my last mission, he saved my life."

Q smiled. "I'd better thank him then. What did my hero do?"

"He's a doctor. Patched me up after getting stabbed."

"Shall I order flowers?"

Bond laughed, clipping Q round the back of the head as he moved to the kitchen. "Don't be a twat."

— —

Bond and Q were the first to arrive at the café, ordering their drinks and sitting in a booth in the corner. Q was blissfully content, his arm hooked through Bond's.

"This is nice."

Bond nodded, pressing a kiss to Q's temple. "Yes."

"They're late."

"They are… Don't shout at them."

Q scowled. "You know how I feel about tardiness."

"I'm sure they have a good reason… Wait… They're here!" Bond jumped to his feet, meeting John halfway, the two men grinning and pulling the other into a brotherly handshake shoulder-pat hug. Bond motioned to the table, sitting down, the two men sitting opposite. The old friends were too distracted greeting each other they didn't notice their partners scowling.

"I'm sorry we're late, he can be a real diva sometimes."

James chuckled. "It's fine… Anyway, this is-"

"Felix."

"Sherlock."

Watson and Bond snapped their heads to look at their partners, eyes wide.

"Heard from mummy, recently?" Q asked. Sherlock's lip twitched.

"Of course not. Ask Mycroft."

"Ex army doctor?"

"Secret agent?"

"Isn't he a little… human for you?"

"Isn't he a little young for you?"

Q's lips curled downwards. "He's forty-five."

"Wasn't Michael over fifty?"

"No. He wasn't."

"Wait, wait," James urged. "You two already know each other?"

John sighed. "Are there any more brothers I need to know about?"

Sherlock smirked. "Just Felix. Or Q as he goes by now."

"Brothers? Well, what are the chances," Bond chuckled. John forced a smile.

"This has to be one of the biggest plots twist of my life… And we thought we were scarily similar back in the forces!"

Bond just smirked, taking a sip of his coffee, watching the brothers out of the corner of his eye, wondering if they'd explode before he got to finish his drink.

"So how much more ostentatious have you become since you assumed the role of a letter?" Sherlock scathed. Q barely blinked.

"Someone's feeling catty. Did Mrs Hudson bin your fox intestines? Or was human toes?"

John sighed, grabbing his drink and stood up, looking pointedly at Bond. "Let's get another table, this is going to go on for a while."


	38. How To Get Suspended

**HOW TO GET SUSPENDED**

_**Prompt: Bond and Q flirting incessantly over the com set and making the rest of MI-6 uncomfortable  
Rating: Teen  
Warning(s): None**_

* * *

Eve shifted uncomfortably in her seat, staring at the hem of her skirt as she remembered the time she was nineteen at uni; the day had some straight out of a cheesy teen flick. She and her boyfriend at the time had been getting frisky on the sofa of her flat. Tops had been removed, trousers undone, hands wandered, and Eve was prepared to give her first blowjob. Everything had been going fine, she'd been hesitant and unpracticed, but her boyfriend sounded like he was enjoying himself; so obviously at that moment, her parents and flat-mate burst in, unannounced, and all at once, Eve bit her boyfriend in shock and fell off the sofa, exposing herself and her half-naked boyfriend to her old-fashioned, religious parents and giggling best friend.

But there was something about Q and Bond flirting over the comms that made Eve wonder if that day really _had_ been the most mortifying moment of her life. She glanced over to M who was a little more red in the face than usual; she wasn't sure if it was because he was as embarrassed as she was or if he was just furious. Tanner looked frustratingly calm, although as Bond's regular handler, he was probably used to the sugar-coated filth being bantered back and forth between Bond and Q.

"Q, these handcuffs are fantastic!"

"Of course they are, I made them."

"I might just bring them home… unofficially of course."

"James, if you'd like me to make you a pair, you need only ask."

"Definitely, one can never have too many toys."

"I agree… although it does hurt my feelings to know I'm not enough for you to play with."

"Oh Q, you know it's only fun if you've got someone to play with them with; handcuffs aren't really for one person."

Eve could feel her face burning,her fingers twisting together on her lap; M was close to snapping his pen.

"Bugger me, it's hot here."

"Well, James, you're the one who chose to wear Zegna in Izmir in August… If you're going to lose a few layers of clothing, go stand by the fancy blue door, the CCTV aimed that way has a zoom function."

"It'd be a better sight if you were actually here."

"Even you being hot, sweaty, and topless couldn't get me on a plane."

"Shame, I'd like to see how you'd compensate for the heat."

"Probably by wearing as little clothing as possible."

"Q, I'm working!"

"Oh, now he remembers he's working," M huffed, quiet enough only Eve could hear. She offered him an impassive smile in return, shrugging her shoulders.

"I wish you would get over your fear of flying, the nights on missions are so lonely."

"You have your hand to keep you company."

"My hand is no match for you and your mouth."

"All the toys I make for you and my mouth is still your preference."

"Well, my second preference…"

"Oh really? Need I ask what your favourite is?"

"You dare, Quartermaster, and you and Bond will be suspended and sent to opposite ends of the planet for a month!"

The lab went silent for what felt like much longer than the few seconds it was before Bond spoke.

"Fifteen minutes; Bill, you can hand my winnings to Q. Cash please, no cheques."

Eve swore she could see the vein in M's forehead throb.

"You wagered how long it'd take me to interrupt your phone sex?!"

"Q bet you'd cut it off straight away, I bet it'd take you about ten-twenty minutes, Tanner bet you wouldn't at all."

"You weren't supposed to actually have phone sex!" Tanner said.

"We didn't, now pay up, five hundred."

"The three of you, consider yourselves suspended the moment Bond's back on British soil!" M barked, storming out of the lab. Tanner slumped, rubbing his forehead; Q chuckled, propping his feet up on the desk.

"Welp."

"Tell me you filmed it," Bond laughed.

"Of course I did."

"Good, I'll need some entertainment to see me through the suspension."

"Definitely not worth it," Tanner huffed. "Five hundred down _and_ suspended."

"Too bad… But in all seriousness, Q, these handcuffs are a work of art."

"Just you wait until you get home," Q grinned.

"Oh my God, guys! Please!"

Q and Tanner spun round, Tanner looking reasonably sheepish.

"Moneypenny, we'd forgotten you were still here," Q said.

"Clearly! Is it always like this?"

"Always," Tanner replied, rolling his eyes. "If you want to know about their sexual affairs, you just need to sit in on their slower missions."

"Right. I'm never joining any of you on mission control ever again."


	39. Dress Up

**DRESS UP**

_**Prompt: A 00Q crossdressing story where q dresses up really sexy just for bond but could you maybe do it fluffy? because q is all shy and a little embarassed about it but of course bond loves it and of course (obviously) smut in the end ;) but just really cute?  
Rating: Explicit  
Warning(s): Sexual content**_

* * *

"This is ridiculous!" Q groaned. "I look stupid. I feel stupid. I just-… This isn't working, Bond."

Bond tutted from where he was lounging on his hotel bed. "We shan't know until you have on the full ensemble."

"No, please. I look like some half-arsed tranny… Why did I have to be the one to do this? I'm not even field trained. Why can't Moneypenny?"

"Moneypenny is resigned from field duty, and I chose you personally."

Q let out a quiet groan. "Of course, no one else wants to humiliate me as much as you."

"Just come out, let me see."

There was a prolonged silence coming from the bathroom, followed by a defeated sigh. Bond heard the soft patter of feet as Q peered around the door. He simply looked naked from the shoulders up, his hair was still messy and his glasses were still on, he'd yet to put on the make-up. Bond smirked, motioning for Q to step fully in the room. He did. A huge grin set on Bond's face when he saw Q dressed.

Q's girlish figure came into use, the sleek emerald green dress hugging his body, the implants fitted to the dress made him look like he had some form of breasts.

"You look lovely. You'll need to shave your legs, though."

"No."

"Q. Even women with hairy legs don't have legs that hairy. You'll need to shave them. Shave your armpits, and get used to walking in the heels we brought."

Q scowled, folding his arms across his stomach. "Remind me to never help you with anything ever again."

"Oh stop whinging. I'll help; back in the bathroom."

Bond jumped up from the bed and manhandled Q back into the bathroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bath. He sat himself on the closed toilet lid and hauled the duffel onto his knee, rummaging through until he found what he was looking for.

"Here. Hair removal cream. Specially designed to leave your legs feeling silky smooth for up to ten days."

Q glared, snatching the box from 007. "That's what I want. Ten days of pretending I never went through puberty."

"Come on, jailbait, just slap that on, leave it for ten minutes then wash it off."

"The box says do not leave on for longer than six minutes. You've never done this before!"

"Of course I bloody haven't! Just do what the box says; you can leave it on in the shower, so you can shave your armpits and then we'll put your make-up on."

After a lot of coercion and threats, Q found himself in the shower, his legs covered up to his mid-thigh with the cream, despairing how his life had gone so terribly wrong. Bond shouted to him when it was time to wash away the cream, leaving hairless legs behind. He quickly completed his tasks and slipped back into the hotel room, towel wrapped around him.

"All done?" Bond asked, tossing his book to the end of the bed. Q nodded, holding the towel close to his body.

"This is easily the worst decision I've ever made."

"Honestly? You don't get out much, do you."

Q huffed, stomping back into the bathroom, gathering the clothes he was to wear. Bond appeared in the doorway, grinning. They both stared at each other, raising a challenging eyebrow, until Q tutted and shoved Bond back out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, clicking the lock into place. James chuckled, slumping against the door.

"You know I could just break in if I wanted to."

"I know. But you won't. Let me get dressed in peace, please."

Bond did as requested, smiling to himself at Q's mutterings of how the clothing was ridiculous.

"How do women do this all the time? This is ridiculous… How do _men_ do this?! You heard about those cage-fighters in Swansea, didn't you Bond?"

Bond chuckled. "Yes. But I think they were meant to look like they'd been dragged through a hedge. You're supposed to look sexy."

"I look stupid. I never want to see a pair of suspenders for the rest of my life after tonight. I'm going to ban them from Q-Branch."

"Are you dressed yet?"

"You need to zip up my dress… There are words I never thought I'd say."

Bond laughed, stepping away from the door; it cracked open just slightly, Q poking his head round.

"Well?"

Q sighed, pulling the door open fully and turned his back to Bond. Bond took a quick moment to rake his eyes up and down Q's body, giving a quiet appreciative hum before reaching for the zip on the back of Q's dress. He quickly zipped it up and curled his hands around Q's hips, pulling their bodies flush together.

"You look lovely."

Q twitched as Bond's warm breath tickled his ear, letting out a quiet gasp. "Bond… Need I cite sexual harassment laws at you?"

Bond grinned, brushing his nose against the back of Q's neck. "If you feel it's necessary."

"We… we need to get ready. I didn't dress up for your own personal amusement."

"I wish you would."

"Bond please."

Bond let go of Q's hips, moving around to face him. "Very well, later then… So. Make-up."

Q rolled his eyes, flattening his dress where it had rumpled and motioned the case on the counter. "There. I'm guessing you know more about it than me."

"I know the basics. Have you put your contacts in?"

"Yes."

"Good. Sit down and we'll get started."

Q nodded, sitting on the edge of the bath; Bond stood between his knees, smirking but being well behaved. He completed Q's make-up with minimal flirting, and Q sat through it with minimal moaning. Once it was done, Bond went to get dressed himself, leaving Q to do his hair. They were both eventually ready for the party. Bond grinned when Q made his presence known; he made an entirely convincing woman, only someone who'd seen the transformation would have known better.

"You look beautiful."

Q rolled his eyes, reaching for his coat. "Piss off."

Bond laughed, grabbing his own coat. "Don't be like that, we haven't even gotten to the party yet. Are you going to be like this all evening?"

"I've a full face of make-up and I'm wearing these stupid stilettos. Yes, I'm going to be an insufferable arsehole all night."

"Would you like to take my arm?"

"Take it and shove up your backside, yes."

Bond grinned, curling his hand around Q's waist. "Come on, darling… Don't forget your name."

Q rolled his eyes, checking he had everything he needed in his purse. "Yes, thank you. Don't forget I'm not some whore you can grope all night."

"Noted." Bond ushered Q out of their hotel room and down to the ballroom where the party was being held. They were both on a recon mission, keeping an eye on one of the guests of honour, needing to bug them and their room. Q hoped to get the mission done as quickly and efficiently as possible, Bond, however, was more intent on joining in. He made conversation with strangers, his arm firmly around Q's waist, introducing him as his thermonuclear astrophysicist fiancé.

During a quick dance Bond had wrangled him into, Q jabbed him in the shin with his heel. "I know fuck all about thermonuclear astrophysics!"

Bond grinned. "Just play along."

"James, I know nothing about it! Knowing my luck I'll meet one of the leading minds of the field and he or she will try and talk to me about it!"

"Q, you're a genius, I'm sure you can come up with something."

"Why can't you be the physicist?"

"And what would that make you?"

Q smirked. "Your wealthy mistress."

Bond chuckled, pulling Q closer to him. "I think I can get behind that."

"James, please, can we just get on with the mission?"

"Of course, after this dance… Who taught you to dance, by the way?"

"James!"

"Fine, come on."

The two men slipped away from the dance floor and got on with the mission, identifying their target and moved in. Q kept him occupied whilst Bond ran upstairs to his room to plant the bugs, dancing with the target, planting another bug on his person. Bond reappeared ten minutes later, grinning easily, pulling Q back into his arms. The target smiled, nonethewiser to their actions and wandered off.

"All done?" Q asked, letting Bond take his waist.

"All done."

"So we can go back to the room?"

Bond shrugged, pressing their bodies closer together. "If you like."

"Please. Why are we dancing?"

"I like dancing with you… You are aware of how sexy you look, aren't you?"

"James-"

"I'm not taking the piss. You make a very beautiful woman."

Q rolled his eyes. "I'm not planning on having a sex change."

"Good job you make a beautiful man, too."

Q sighed, looking down at where their chests were touching. Bond smiled, lifting Q's chin to look in his eyes, smiling wider when he noticed the pink flush in his cheeks.

"Shall we go back to the room?"

"You're propositioning me, aren't you."

"Perhaps."

"Is it the dress?"

"It's what's in the dress."

Q hesitated, eyeing Bond suspiciously before pulling away. "I need to get out of these fucking shoes."

Bond laughed, following him off the dance floor and up to their floor. The moment Q had kicked off the shoes Bond was on him, pinning him against the table, kissing him to within an inch of his life. Q groaned, his fingers twisting in the lapels of Bond's jacket. They pulled away, gasping for breath; Bond touched his hand to Q's cheek, smearing his lipstick across his lips and cheek.

"God, I want you."

Q moaned, mashing their lips back together, trying to push Bond's jacket from his shoulders. Bond grunted, throwing his jacket off and ripping off his tie, before jamming Q's hips back into the table. There was some more fumbling with clothing, Bond trying to hike Q's dress up over his hips whilst Q tried to undo his belt and trousers.

"You've had no underwear all night?" Bond groaned, spinning Q around to face the table. Q grunted, dropping his head forward.

"My underwear would have messed with the cut of the dress, and there's not a cat in Hell's chance I'm wearing women's underwear."

"If I'd known sooner I wouldn't have pissed about downstairs."

Q chuckled, pushing himself back into Bond's touch. "No rush, James, we have all night."

"You've changed your tune from earlier."

"I'm allowed to change my mind whenever I want. If you'd rather I go back to my earlier protests-"

"Fuck, no! Just… stay there a sec."

Q huffed out a sigh as James' warmth slipped away; he didn't bother looking over his shoulder to see what the agent was doing, he could guess by the sounds on him rifling through the bags and the quiet, triumphant "ah-hah!" He slumped down, resting on his elbows on the table, shivering when he felt Bond's warm hands trail up his sides, pushing the dress up even further. Bond hummed appreciatively, digging his fingers into Q's skin.

"Don't stall, Bond, you can touch me up later."

"I'm holding you to that."

Q heard the quiet click of a cap opening, his eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. They snapped open again when he felt the cold press of Bond's fingers, shuddering when the first finger breached him, letting out a quiet sob of relief. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand when one finger turned into two, using the pain to keep him grounded, determined not to come until Bond lost all cognitive abilities.

Bond chuckled at Q's groan of disapproval when he removed his fingers, fumbling to pull the condom out of his trouser pocket.

"I believe you should be more undressed for this," Q huffed, finally uncurling his fingers.

"Trousers or shirt?"

Q took a moment to think before muttering, "shirt."

Bond quickly unbuttoned and threw off his shirt before pulling himself out of his boxers and rolling on the condom. He rubbed a soothing hand up Q's back, smearing the leftover lube over his cock before positioning himself. Q groaned loudly, his head dropping to his chest when Bond finally pushed in, readying himself, holding onto the edge of the table with a vice-like grip. He sucked in a quick breath when Bond paused to allow him to adjust, holding it in before exhaling loudly. He could hear Bond breathing loudly through his nose, able to picture the intense look on the face of the man behind him, his jaw clamped shut. He gave a quick, shaky nod, pressing his fingers harder into the wood of the table; Bond nodded back, slowly pulling out, enjoying the long moan he managed to draw out of Q.

He slammed back in hard enough to almost send Q sprawling down on the table, his grip on his quartermaster's hips tight enough to leave bruises for at least a week. Q's eyes were half-lidded, his grip on the table slackened as he trusted Bond to keep him up, letting himself be used, letting go of all of his stress and control. He revelled in the knowledge that he'd be very sore in the morning.

Bond grunted, reaching out for Q's shoulder, pulling him up into a hunched over position whilst continuing his assault on Q's prostate. Q moaned loudly at the new position, dropping his head back; Bond quickly took advantage, dropping his head to nip and suck at Q's bared neck.

His hips kept a steady rhythm, thrusting hard and quick as his fingers played over Q's collarbone and shoulder, curling around his neck, squeezing gently. Q's body shivered, swallowing thickly, feeling his larynx rub against Bond's fingers.

"James…"

Bond groaned, tightening his hold on Q's neck, his hips starting to stutter. Q gasped, pressing back into Bond's grip, reaching for his neglected cock. He fisted himself roughly as Bond continued to thrust into him, letting out a low wail as he came. Bond grunted, his hips stuttering as he followed Q over the edge, sighing loudly and slumped over the smaller man, pressing him against the table. Q sighed gently, his eyes fluttering closed.

Bond pressed several soft kisses to Q's neck and stood back up, taking a step away from Q to clean himself up. Q pushed himself up, huffing when the dress slipped back down and stumbled through to the bathroom, pathetically pawing at the dress.

"James, come and rip this blasted thing off me!"

A few moments later Bond appeared behind him, his hands curling around Q's waist. "Literally?"

"Please. I never want to see this fucking dress ever again."

Bond chuckled, kissing across Q's collar. "But what if I'd like to keep it as a memento?"

"Then you can sew it back together whilst I shower."

Bond nodded, twisting Q around to face him and pulled him into a deep kiss, stroking his fingers down his chest before grabbing the top of the dress and ripping it open. Q moaned appreciatively, slinging an arm around Bond's neck, stepping out of the dress when it pooled around his ankles. He pushed Bond away and ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the sink, peering into the mirror.

"Good God, look at me."

Bond grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "I am."

"How the mark thought I was a genuine woman I have no idea… Get out, I'm having a shower."

"Can I not join you?"

"No, go tidy the room, I'd rather not be receiving the cleaning bill when we get back to MI-6."

"Don't be too long."

Bond quickly wrangled Q into another kiss before slinking back through to the room. He tidied up the mess they'd made, shoving everything from his bed and stripped down to his boxers, collapsing down onto the covers.

Q emerged from the bathroom, a towel round his waist as he scrubbed his hair dry with another. His glasses were back on his face as he stumbled over to the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. Bond shuffled forwards, a leg on either side of Q and pulled him back to lean against his chest, his arms curling around his waist.

"Have you always been so soft?" he muttered, burying his face into Q's neck. Q nodded, throwing his damp towel at the bathroom door.

"I've been told so. The thing is, I used to have body hair."

Bond laughed, pressing a kiss to Q's cheek. "It'll grow back… and I'll find you attractive either way."

"That's sweet of you. Do you mind if I just pass out now?"

"So long as I can continue to touch you as you sleep."

"Vaguely creepy, but okay."

Q crawled up the bed, unravelling his other towel and dropped it onto the floor before collapsing onto the pillows. Bond smiled, slipping Q's glasses from his face and placed them on the bedside table, littering Q's forehead with kisses. Q smiled back, reaching out to rest his hand on Bond's chest.

"Try not to wake me."

"Go to sleep, Q."


End file.
